


The Prince Next Door

by jaqtkd



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: #many other minor ones, Alternate Universe - Canon, Elia's kids are alive, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Jon and Dany are friends, Magical beans, Question Everything, R Plus L Equals J, Rhaegar got his family out of King's Landing, Season 7 AU, Smut, This is definitely AU, another crazy ride, based mostly on the show, characters listed are key ones from early acts, in that they are children for the first few chapters, insatiable dragons, magic and mystery, season 8 AU, show timelines and dates, teenage romance, will soon be obvious why this one got me in knots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 20:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 172,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14776511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqtkd/pseuds/jaqtkd
Summary: Rhaegar receives a warning about King Aerys' state of mind and, during Robert's Rebellion, gets his family out of King's Landing and to relative safety.  Jon and Dany then grow up as close neighbours and best friends, only later suspecting that there's rather more going on than meets the eye.Act 1 is the story of their childhood, Act 2 picks back up at 7x01 with surprisingly few changes from canon before returning to AU for the rest of the fic.  How will Jon and Dany deal with the inevitable adult challenges when they already have such a strong connection and shared past? And will their childhood secret be of any use in the fight against the Long Night?





	1. Chapter 1

###  **Act One: Playing Dragons**

****

_[by justwandering-neverlost](https://justwandering-neverlost.tumblr.com/) _

####  **Jon I (Aged 6)**

Sword fighting was nowhere near as enjoyable as Jon had expected. Watching the soldiers train in the main courtyard had always been thrilling and so he had assumed it would be the same once he learnt. Perhaps it would be better when he got a proper sword? This small, wooden one had felt light when Ser Rodrik first placed it in his hand and showed him the proper way to grasp it but, as Robb's sword hit his repeatedly - sending vibrations up his arm - Jon’s shoulders had begun to ache and he found himself wishing he was five again and could return to the nursery to play with his toy soldiers instead.

However, with Robb turning six, and Lady Catelyn expecting another child, Lord Eddard had decided that this was a good time for the future Lord of Winterfell to move into his own chambers and begin his training at the same time. Where Robb went, Jon had always followed and so he too was to have his own room and learn how to fight, even though Lady Catelyn fought bitterly with her husband about his bastard being so honoured.

"He is no lord," Jon had overheard her saying to his father last week. "He is no true Stark. Why should he be housed in the Great Keep and trained alongside your heir?"

"Because he has my blood," Ned had replied, "and because he will grow into a young man who will one day act as Robb's sworn sword."

"Or he could go to the Wall," she had suggested.

"Aye, that is an option for him too," he replied, "but is also why he should be well trained. After all, the Night's Watch needs all the skilled swords it can get nowadays."

"And his chambers?" she pushed.

He gave her a long, hard look. "You would have him housed with the dogs?"

Even Catelyn knew that that would be one step too far. "Of course not but ... not close to our chambers, I beg you. I cannot bear it."

"The First Keep then," Ned replied. "There are quality chambers on the ground floor that housed elder lords in the past when they were less able to climb the stairs and Old Nan will be close by if the boy needs her."

Catelyn nodded, her mouth a tight line. "That seems like a good compromise."

 _'I am a bastard,’_ Jon reminded himself, tears stinging his eyes. _'I have no mother and Lady Cat_ _e_ _lyn hates me.'_

He wanted to hate her in return but found it difficult when he saw how kind she was to Robb, how gentle she was with little Sansa and how well she treated all the small folk within the castle. Jon would watch her soft smile as she talked to some young child and wonder what it would feel like to have her look at him that way.

"Ow!"

"Beat you!" Robb crowed, placing the tip of his wooden sword against Jon's chest. "And now you're dead."

"Not fair," Jon complained. "You're bigger than me."

"He is," Rodrik, said, bending down to put a hand on Jon's shoulder. "And you will spend much of your youth fighting those taller and broader than you, I'm sure." His gaze moved from Robb to Jon and then back again. "I do not believe that either of you will rival Ser Duncan the Tall when you are men grown, but height and force are not a requirement for great warriors and I will teach you how to use your other strengths."

"What other strengths?" Jon asked, sulkily.

"You are both bright boys," he replied, "and your wit will be worth a foot of height if used correctly." He grinned at the darker boy’s expression. “Your petulance might help too, Jon, if only you could learn to use it wisely."

"Petulance?"

"That," Rodrik said with a smile. "That look on your face right now."

"How will Jon’s sulking help him to win?" Robb said, laughing.

"Well, yes, when you put it like that ..." Rodrik grinned broadly whilst Jon just folded his arms, not appreciating the teasing. "Come now, you did very well for your first session. I believe you are both naturals and will be great fighters if you train hard and listen to my advice. And I shall tell your father as such – although I doubt he would expect to hear differently. Get along with you now. Go eat and rest, and be ready to train hard again tomorrow."

"You hear that, Jon?" Robb said, wrapping an arm around his brother's shoulders. "We will be great warriors you and I. Just like Ser Duncan."

"Only shorter," Jon grumbled.

Robb laughed. "You're funny."

They headed back into the armoury to return their practice swords before walking north-east towards their living quarters, both pausing by the well in the smaller courtyard as they made ready to go their separate ways - Robb to the keep on the right and Jon to the one on the left.

"You want to play, Jon?" The two boys both turned at the sound of the voice and Jon smiled as he saw his new friend standing at the entranceway to the First Keep.

"Of course," he called out. “Wait there.”

Robb squinted over Jon's shoulder. "Making friends with the small folk?"

"I have plenty of _those_ sort of friends,” he replied with a shrug, “but Dany's high born."

"Well, I'd better get back to Mother,” Robb said, already turning towards the Great Keep. "See you later at the feast?"

Jon shrugged. "Maybe." He'd be seated at the other end of the Hall in all likelihood but it wasn’t really worth complaining about.

As his brother walked away, Jon turned towards the First Keep instead, his aches and frustrations quickly disappearing as he anticipated spending time with his friend.

“What have you been doing, Jon?” she asked, looking him up and down as they headed inside the tower. “You look a mess.”

He grinned. “I’m always a mess, remember?” Dany never was. She was always beautifully dressed, her silver-blonde hair neatly braided and with never a smudge of dirt on her, no matter how bad the weather was outside.

“Even _more_ of a mess,” she retorted.

“I was learning to fight with Robb,” he told her, proudly. “It was our first session with Ser Rodrik and he said we both did very well.”

She nodded, a small frown on her face. “Boys need to learn to fight, I suppose.”

“I think girls should too,” Jon replied. “Old Nan tells stories of warrior princesses as well as the princes.”

She smiled then. “Yes, my family is full of female heroes riding dragons.”

“I love those stories,” Jon replied. “You should join us for training tomorrow.”

She shook her head. “My brother would never let me do that.”

“Oh ...” He frowned. “That’s a shame.“ They had reached the end of the corridor which lead to their chambers and he paused at the base of the stairwell, turning towards her. “What shall we play today?”

“We can be dragon riders,” Dany declared holding out her arms and lifting them up like wings. “Then we can fly into the sky and breathe fire on all our enemies.”

“Yes,” Jon grinned, copying her and no longer even noticing the ache in his right arm. “I shall be Daeron the Young Dragon.”

“And I shall be Rhaenyra.” And the two small children ran up and down the dark stone corridor outside of Jon’s chambers, flapping their arms and roaring loudly.

“What is all this noise?”

Jon careered to a halt, boots sliding on the flagstones in an attempt not to bump into Old Nan. He looked up, nervously to find the lady looking down at him with a stern expression on her face, although he thought perhaps he could detect a light sparkle in her eyes, all the same.

“We were just playing,” he replied, defensively.

The old lady looked up then, squinting as she took note of his companion standing nervously behind him. “Pretty little thing,” she decided before turning back to him. “I always thought you’d be a heartbreaker, Jon Snow but aren’t you starting a bit early?”

He frowned, not quite understanding. “We were just playing Dragons.”

“Ah, of course.” She smiled as his friend approached. “What’s your name, child?”

“D-dany,” she replied nervously.

“Well now, Dany, perhaps you and Jon should play something a little quieter? Young voices carry easily in these old corridors, you know.”

“All right,” Jon agreed, scuffing his toe along the floor. “Sorry.”

“Come on,” the little girl said, leaning forward to grab at his hand. “Let’s go to my chambers for a while.”

Old Nan smiled fondly at the sight before shuffling back into her own room and Jon allowed his friend to lead him, hesitating at the sight of the dark, wooden door at the end of the corridor, a strange uncertainty overtaking him as they approached it.

“I just think … I’m a bit tired after training and perhaps I should rest before supper and ...”

“Just for a little while,” Dany urged, reaching up to grab the metal ring with both hands and twisting until the latch lifted with an echoing clang. “Come on.”

Jon sighed, helping to push open the heavy door before following her through, shaking his head in an attempt to banish his fatigue. On the other side the long corridor continued, the extra light here making the stone appear paler, and Dany tugged Jon through the closest door on the left and into a large, communal room which had him gaping in awe. He had been here before, of course, but never ceased to be surprised and impressed at how lavishly decorated these chambers were - perhaps even more so than his Lord father’s - and how very unusual they appeared in both style and shape, with numerous differently styled doors placed around its oddly angled walls.

“My bedroom is through there,” Dany told him, pointing to the first, pale door on the left. “My brother’s is over there and my niece and nephew live in chambers further along the corridor.”

“You have a niece and nephew?” he asked, confused.

“Yes and they’re older than me,” she replied, giggling. “Isn’t that odd?”

“Very,” he agreed.

Dany beamed at him. “But I’m glad we’re such close neighbours, Jon. Everyone else I know is either scared or scary but you’re not. You’re nice.”

“Thank you,” he said, frowning. “But there are plenty of other nice people living here.”

Dany just shrugged, heading over to a jug and grabbing it with both hands as she attempted to pour a drink into two goblets. Seeing her struggle, Jon moved closer, standing on tiptoes to hold the cups steady for her.

“I’m thirsty after all that running,” she declared.

“Me too,” Jon agreed as he took a sip of the cool liquid, licking his lips and savouring the strange, sharp taste. “Hmm, it’s nice. I’ve not had this before.”

“It’s my favourite,” she replied.

A loud voice interrupted their quiet drink. “Daenerys, where are you? Dany?”

She winced. “I’m here.”

“Where have you been, child? I’ve been calling for you for ages.”

A young man strode in through the main door and Jon took an instinctive step backwards on seeing the look on his face. He was slim with hair the same unusual colour as his friend’s and would probably be considered handsome if he wasn’t looking quite so angry.

“I was just playing in the corridor,” Dany replied nervously.

“You little liar,” he snarled. “I know you weren’t.” Then the man realised she wasn’t alone and spun around sharply. “And who are you?”

“J-Jon.” He took another nervous step back. “I’m Dany’s friend.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” He turned back to Dany. “And you shouldn’t be playing with the servants, especially scruffy, flea-bitten ones like him.”

Jon suddenly forgot his fear, stepping forwards, his hands fisted by his side. “I am _not_ a servant,” he said, lifting his chin. “And my father would send you packing if he heard you talking to me like that.”

“He’s my friend, Viserys, please don’t be mean.”

The man gave a cruel laugh, smiling lopsidedly at Jon who was now glaring. “You have spirit, I’ll give you that, boy, but you need learn your place in this castle. Don’t think I don’t know what you are.”

He frowned, taking a small step back, tears stinging his eyes at the reminder.

“I-I’ll see you tomorrow, Jon,” Dany said quietly and he nodded, reluctant to leave her with this horrible man but knowing he could do nothing about it. He wondered if he should perhaps say something to his father.

With a deep sigh Jon turned and walked out of the elegant living room and back into the corridor, pausing to look to his left and seriously debating exploring down there. He then realised he was being watched and turned to see an old man with white hair leaning against the wall and looking at him suspiciously. Feeling strangely guilty about his curiosity, Jon ducked his head back down and headed towards his own chambers with a mumbled, 'Good day,' before pushing open the dark door and returning to his side of the corridor.

~o~0~o~

####  **Dany I (Aged 5)**

“Ow!” Viserys had grabbed her arm and was pinching far too tightly. “Please don’t, you’re hurting me.”

“Playing with the barrack brats now, are you? Sneaking off down there and getting under the feet of the soldiers who are protecting us? Ungrateful little wretch.”

“I was not. We were in the corridor, I told you.”

“Stick to your own kind, Dany. We are Targaryens and don’t mix with the rabble. Why not play with Rhaenys? I know she’s not a _true_ Dragon with that hair colour, but at least she has _some_ Targaryen blood in her.”

“She just reads and does needlework and thinks I’m a baby,” Dany complained. “And Aegon’s no better, he just sulks all the time since his mother died. I like Jon better.” He grabbed her arm again. “Ow!”

“You keep away from him and from all the other boys,” he snarled. “We are so few now and have to keep our bloodlines pure. As much as I hate the idea of diluting our blood at all, I suppose my marrying Rhaenys and you Aegon will be better than nothing. We can wash out the Dornish blood in a generation or two.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“At least Aegon _looks_ Targaryen and perhaps he’ll inherit the gift once the old man dies, even though he is only a half blood.”

Dany frowned. “Gift? Old man?”

Viserys nodded. “The Dragon must have three heads as Rhaegar is always reminding me when he visits. Three who have the ancient, Targaryen magic. Him and me and … there will be one other. ‘Look out for my third,’ he said.”

“I miss Rhaegar,” Dany said then. “When will he next come to visit?”

Her brother shrugged. “He’ll come when he comes but he visits _me_ , not you. He’s only interested in princes.”

“That’s not true. He calls me his special little sister.”

“You’re his _only_ sister,” her brother said scornfully, “so that hardly means much. You don’t have the Dragon magic. How could you? It’s not for girls.”

“What is this magic? What can you do with it?”

“As if you’d understand such a thing. Rhaegar is teaching _me_ though. He’s showing me how and I’ll teach the third prince. Perhaps it’s Aegon or perhaps there’s another out there.”

Dany often got lost when adults spoke. Most of them would use far too many words, speak far too quickly and not seem to realise that she didn’t understand, but Viserys’ conversations were always especially confusing to her. In this case she had understood almost all the words he used, but practically none of it had made sense to her.

“Go and play with Rhaenys,” he repeated. “I need to practice.”

Dany nodded and started to head out, seriously debating turning right instead of left and going back to see Jon. She looked back over her shoulder then to see Viserys standing in front of the door next to her bedroom, one palm flat against the dark wood whilst he glared at it, and she felt an odd trickle of fear at the sight, confused at what her brother was doing.

It was getting late now, she realised as she walked into the darkening corridor, probably too late to visit Jon again, and so, with a quiet sigh, Dany turned left into the corridor and headed to Rhaenys’ room, hoping to take some supper with her niece. At least the girl was quiet and gentle and, despite her earlier complaint, Dany felt that that was exactly what she needed right now.

~o~0~o~

She and Viserys were breaking their fast in the communal living room a few days later when the front door opened unexpectedly.

“Rhaegar!” Dany shouted, jumping off her seat and running over to hug her older brother. “You’ve been gone for such a long time.”

He lifted her up and swung her around. “I know and I’m sorry but look at how much you’ve grown.” He put her down gently and looked up, his expression now more serious. “How are you, Viserys?”

“Frustrated,” the young man replied. “I still can’t do it.”

Rhaegar sighed. “Well, that’s why I’m here, of course. I’ll try and give you some more suggestions but …” He glanced briefly at Dany. “We should talk about other matters first. What’s your situation here?”

“Unchanged. We’re stuck here until the Usurper calls off his dogs.”

“That’s a shame. I was hoping you could leave and search for somewhere better but, do you think you’re safe for the time being?”

Viserys shrugged. “If we’ve survived this long then I’m sure we’re fine. We have our contacts, a few people here in Westeros and some in Essos who’ve been helping us and getting the odd message through.”

“Well, that’s something.”

“I suppose.” Viserys looked over at Dany and glared. “Go play with Rhaenys, sister.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, and no sneaking off to see that dark-haired urchin you’ve befriended.”

“He is _not_ an urchin!”

“No mixing with the rabble, child. Off with you.”

“Please can I stay here with Rhaegar for a bit longer? I promise I won’t get in the way.”

“Best you leave now, little one,” her eldest brother said, crouching down so he could look her in the eye. “Viserys and I have a lot to discuss.”

“Please say you’ll come back soon.”

“I’ll try, dearest, although it’s really not that easy.”

She sighed. “Yes, I know. The Usurper wants us dead.”

He frowned and lowered his voice further. “I’m sorry you have to be stuck here, Daenerys. I’m sorry you couldn’t grow up in King’s Landing as the royal princess you are, but I promise that you’re safe here for now and that, one day, you’ll have the crown and the love you truly deserve."

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I imagine you have questions? 
> 
> You can ask and I will respond ... if not necessarily reply. There are a lot of 'interesting' things floating around here if you're looking closely.
> 
> For once, I cannot guarantee weekly updates until the very end of this fic, but I _can_  at least promise them through to the end of Act Five. Keep an eye on my profile for up-to-date information.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your lovely responses on the first chapter and for all your questions and curiosity.  The good news is that we'll be moving through their childhood fairly quickly and you will get answers to many of your questions today.  Of course, you may acquire a few more questions too.  
> 
> So please continue to ask and I'll continue to ... respond :) Otherwise, just sit back and enjoy all the young Jon & Dany interactions. 

**Dany II (Aged 7)**

Despite his assurances that they were all perfectly safe here, Viserys insisted that the three younger Targaryens stayed inside - especially Daenerys and Aegon whose hair would be far more noticeable - and their attempts to explore the rest of the castle were always thwarted by guards and servants who had been told to restrict them to this one area.

Fortunately the dark, northern door was never guarded - although it was occasionally locked - and Aegon would tease Dany whenever she suggested they went out that way, telling her the old door didn’t lead anywhere, just like all the other dark ones in that ancient part of the castle. Despite this, Dany found that she _was_ occasionally able to get through and she enjoyed those rare chances to visit Jon and get some fresh air; shouting and playing in a way she was never able to when her brother was nearby.

During her initial visits she had stayed close to the dark door, keeping to the corridor or spending time in Jon’s room, nervous about moving too far away in case Viserys came looking for her. However, as time went by and her little trips went uncommented on, Dany began to feel brave enough to venture further, stepping outside of the old, round tower and into a small, rustic courtyard next to the guard house with an old well in the centre. Here she and Jon discovered a new game, chasing each other around and around in a circle until one caught the other or they both collapsed on the floor, laughing and dizzy.

‘No mixing with the rabble,’ Viserys had said, but Dany loved these people’s soft, musical voices and the relaxed, happy smiles thrown her way - always such a contrast to the mood of her family and the few servants who interacted with her when she was in their private quarters.

Jon often complained about members of his family too, but those she had met so far seemed perfectly nice and were always polite to her. There was his brother Robb and adorable little sisters Sansa and Arya and the older girl had taken one look at Jon’s friend the first time they'd met and pointed up at her with a bright smile. “Pretty hair,” she had declared and Dany had laughed and returned the compliment, quite entranced by the child’s striking red locks, far brighter than Robb’s auburn and so very different from Jon’s wild, dark curls.

At home she found Rhaenys pleasant enough company and Aegon wasn’t too bad - albeit a little annoying - but her brother Viserys scared her and she felt guilty at considering him her least favourite family member when he was the one she was mostly closely related to. Her favourite relation was her eldest brother, of course but Rhaegar visited them so rarely and nearly always spent time with Viserys when he did.

And then, one night when she was seven, Dany was woken from a deep sleep by a low, quiet voice calling her name, opening her eyes to discover the candle by her bed had been lit, revealing the vague shape of a man with silver hair leaning over her.

She squinted. “Viserys?”

“No, Daenerys, it’s me.”

She was suddenly awake, sitting up excitedly and grinning. “Rhaegar!”

“Hush, little one. I just wanted a chance to speak with you alone, which isn’t always easy when my visits here are so rare.”

“I know. I wish you could come and live with us all the time.”

“So do I, but I’m afraid I’ll be going away soon and it will be some time before you see me again.”

She pouted. “That is so unfair.”

“I know, but it’s also the reason I needed to talk to you tonight.” He sighed. “We really do have so much to discuss and I just wish you were a little older so you’d understand it more.”

“I’ll _try_ to understand.”

He smiled. “I know you will. Now, up you get, Daenerys. I need to show you something next door.”

She walked with Rhaegar into the main living room and her brother immediately turned towards the door next to hers which looked similar to the one in the corridor; dark and ancient with strange white streaks on it.

“There are quite a few of these dark doors here,” she said. “But most of them don’t open.”

“That’s true,” he replied. “And they’re here because this is the oldest part of the castle.”

She nodded. “Yes, I know.”

Rhaegar smiled. “Well, all I want you to do is put your hand on this door, Daenerys, nothing more, and then tell me how it feels to you.”

She yawned and did as her brother asked, smiling slightly at the familiar sensation that thrummed through her palm. “It’s warm,” she declared.

Next to her Rhaegal breathed out heavily. “It’s locked, of course,” he said. “And you shouldn’t try to go through. It’s not safe out there.”

She nodded. “I prefer the other door anyway.”

“What other door?”

“The one in the corridor.” Rhaegal sucked in a sharp breath and she turned to see him looking very shocked. “What is it? It’s not dangerous in _that_ courtyard, I promise.”

He was looking at her intently but she was quite unable to guess at his thoughts. “Viserys doesn’t think you should go outside at all,” he said eventually.

Dany nodded. “I know. The guards always stop me on the south door but I don’t think they know about that one.”

“What’s through there?” he asked.

“Just a lot of men training usually but there’s one nice old woman there and some children that I like to play with.”

Rhaegar smiled. “Including your dark-haired urchin?”

She glared, knowing he was teasing her. “He’s my best friend.”

“Well, I won’t tell Viserys about your visits, I promise, but perhaps you should keep your hair covered when you go outside from now on. It’s very important that no-one recognises you as a Targaryen.”

She smiled brightly, realising that Rhaegal was giving his tacit permission for her to continue sneaking outside. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my sweet, but please promise me that you’ll be very careful? Always remember that our family has many enemies and often where we least suspect them. Do not tell any of your new friends who you are.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Good girl, now back to bed with you and try to remember everything I’ve told you.” She nodded and headed next door, hopping back up into her bed and smiling as Rhaegar kissed her gently on top of her head.

“Goodnight, Rhaegar,” she mumbled sleepily as she snuggled back down under the covers.

“Goodbye, my very special little sister,” he whispered with a deep sigh. “Always remember how much I love you.”

~o~0~o~

When she awoke the next morning, Dany had the strangest feeling she’d dreamt her conversation with Rhaegar and quickly decided not to risk asking Viserys when he’d last seen their brother, just in case he teased her for it. Fortunately he had things he needed to do elsewhere today, going on and on about seeing someone important about their family’s claim to the throne and so, for once, she didn’t pester him about coming along, deciding that his absence would give her the perfect excuse to visit Jon instead.

Regardless of whether Rhaegar’s visit had been a dream or not, Dany was now old enough to understand that what he’d said about their family was true, and that any who knew they were Targaryen royalty might decide it was worth their while to send news to the Usurper in King’s Landing. So, once Viserys had left their chambers, she asked her handmaiden, Shara to pick out her plainest dress for her to wear before covering her distinctive hair with a long, dark scarf and checking her reflection in a mirror. Then she headed out into the corridor, pushed open the dark door and walked towards the first pale door on the right.

“Dany, you’re here. Good,” Jon said as she walked into his bed-chambers and then did a double take as he looked back up. “Whatever are you wearing?”

She shrugged. “Viserys doesn’t like me going outside so I thought I’d wear this so people don’t recognise me and tell him.”

“Your hair _is_ very obvious,” he said casually and then paled as she glared at him. “No, I like it. It’s pretty. You can borrow one of my shirts too, if you like? It’ll stop your nice clothes from getting dirty and make people think you’re just one of the kitchen girls?”

She frowned, confused, glancing down at her plain, cream dress. “This really isn’t all that nice but ...” She then looked at the tatty, grey shirt he was holding and realised that it did seem a lot more practical for outside. “I suppose that does make sense.”

Jon nodded, shoving the shirt into her hands and then grinning once she had put it on. “I’ve outgrown that one but it’s still a bit big for you.” He nodded. “It’s good though, as you definitely won’t stand out now. “Come on, I want you to quickly meet my new brother before his mother gets back from visiting the town.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and Arya too. She grown a lot since you last saw her.”

He took her hand and lead her across the small courtyard, past the well, and over to another large round tower and Dany looked back over her shoulder nervously, trying to get her bearings and worrying about how far away from her chambers she was now.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” Jon reassured her as he lead her up a long, spiral staircase to an area which seemed a lot finer than in the other tower and she wondered again whereabouts she was. Perhaps they’d looped around and were now back on the southern side? “Robb and I used to live here when we were little,” Jon told her as he pushed open the heavy door, “but it belongs to the little ones now. Here.”

He lead her into a large room which was well furnished, albeit a little rustic, and over to a beautifully carved wooden crib where a small baby lay fast asleep. Old Nan looked up and gave the pair a slightly suspicious look, but she didn’t stop them from approaching.

“This is my little brother, Brandon,” Jon whispered. “He was only born a week ago and over here is Arya who’s not quite two yet. Look, she has dark hair just like me.”

“Oh,” Dany gasped as she stood on tip-toes to peer over the edge of the first crib. “He’s so little.” Then she walked over to the small bed where the older baby was also asleep. “You’re right, she _has_ grown up. So you now have two brothers and two sisters?”

“Yes,” he said.

She sighed. “I just have the two brothers.”

Jon nodded. “I’ve not met your older one though.”

“He visits so rarely,” she said with a sigh. “I sometimes worry that I’ll never see him again.”

“It seems odd that your brothers are both grown up. Robb and I are the eldest, you see.”

She smiled. “ _You’re_ the big brothers.”

“Yes,” he said proudly.

“You and Dany should probably leave now,” Old Nan said then. “I’d rather these two don’t wake up just yet.”

“All right,” Jon agreed meekly. “I just wanted to introduce her to Bran.”

“Of course. Now, off with the pair of you.”

Jon nodded, taking her hand in his again before leading her back downstairs and out into the small courtyard, whilst Dany again tried to work out what direction they were heading in.

“North?” she asked, pointing to the armoury.

Jon shook his head, pointing instead up the path that ran past it. “No, that gate there? _That’s_ the north gate.”

She nodded. “Oh, I see.”

“Let’s go back and play Dragons,” he suggested as they ran past the well towards the more familiar, older tower.

“Oh, yes,” she agreed. “I love that game.”

Afterwards they returned to Jon’s room, both out of breath from all the running, sitting cross-legged on his bed whilst they talked about their game and thought up new ideas for her next visit. Later they both lay down on the bed to continue their conversation and it wasn’t long before Dany started to feel her eyes grow heavy.

“I should go,” she said sleepily. “Viserys will be back soon.” There was no response from Jon and she smiled as she looked over and realised her friend had fallen asleep, determined not to join him. “Get up,” she mumbled to herself.

She really must have been _very_ tired, because she had no memory of walking home at all, opening her eyes some time later to find herself lying on her own bed, still wearing her head scarf and Jon’s old shirt.

~o~0~o~

**Jon II (Aged 9)**

Jon didn’t much like Theon. He felt that he should probably get along better with the young hostage, considering they were both outsiders within the Stark household, but, despite feeling some sympathy for the newcomer, there was something about Greyjoy that just rubbed him up the wrong way and he often felt frustrated at how well Robb seemed to get along with him.

Was he jealous? He didn’t think so. After all, his best friend was Dany and at times he thought he got along better with her than he did his brother. Her and his adorable little sister Arya. Perhaps he just liked girls better than boys? He tried hard to be friends with Theon for Robb’s sake, but the new boy’s first interaction with Dany only seemed to confirm that there were just not destined to get along.

The three boys were training with the bow master in the main courtyard and Theon was doing exceptionally well. Jon and Robb certainly had the edge over him during sword fighting but it appeared that archery was something the young ward excelled at. Still, Jon was able enough and his last shot of the afternoon hit the exact centre of the target causing him to grin wildly whilst the other two boys gave their grudging approval. Enthusiastic applause from behind caused all three to turn around and Jon smiled again as he saw Dany leaning against the armoury wall and clapping excitedly.

“Good shot, Jon.”

“Someone’s got an admirer,” Theon teased.

He shrugged. “That’s Dany.”

“You’ve got a sweetheart?” He sounded gleeful.

“She’s just a friend,” he grumbled, handing his bow back to the master.

“His _best_ friend,” Robb added, smiling broadly.

“So?”

“You can’t have a girl as a best friend,” Theon said, laughing.

“Well, I do! And she’s nicer than you.”

“And prettier,” Robb added. “Don’t forget that.”

Theon smirked. “But not prettier than Jon.”

“Shut up, the pair of you!” He turned away with a glower and headed over towards Dany, even though he knew that doing so was not likely to help with the teasing.

“What did they say?” she asked as he approached. “You looked so happy and now ...” She gestured to him. “… this.”

“This?”

“This frown. You look like a rain cloud.”

He rolled his eyes. “Just the new boy being rude.”

“Oh. Who is he?”

“He’s an idiot.”

“Come on then, let’s play.” She took hold of his hand and Jon winced as he heard a raucous whistle from behind him, pulling his hand away with a pout, even though he continued to follow her towards the First Keep.

“He said I can’t have a girl as a best friend,” he explained.

“Who is he to say who you can or cannot be friends with?”

“No-one really, he’s just a hostage.”

“Hostage?” Dany frowned. “Is that like a prisoner?”

“Sort of but ... not exactly. He’s just … staying here because of the rebellion.”

“Oh, I see.” She sighed. “At least we’re all safe from that here.”

Jon turned to her with a frown. “Yes, of course we are. There’s no need to worry. And the rebellion is over now anyway.”

She turned sharply and glared at him. “Easy enough for _you_ to say.”

“What? What do you mean?”

She shook her head. “Never mind. Look I don’t want to cause trouble for you here and Viserys keeps warning me against coming outside anyway so, when is it best for me to visit? A time when there’s no-one else here to tease you or mess up our games?”

Jon frowned, thinking it over. “Sunset, perhaps, when everyone has supper? I don’t usually get to sit with my family anyway so no-one will miss me.”

“That’ll work, I suppose, as we usually eat earlier than that.” She nodded. “I’ll come after I’ve had my food then, although probably not every day as I spent more time with Rhaenys and Aegon nowadays and it very much depends on what sort of mood Viserys is in.”

He sighed. “It’s a shame if we can’t see each other quite as much but, yes, come to my chambers whenever you have a free evening and hopefully I’ll be there.”

~o~0~o~

Jon certainly missed Dany now she wasn’t around during the day, but he did have to admit that it made things a lot easier for him. Theon had started to regularly tease him about his ‘sweetheart’ to the point that his father had even started to ask about her and Jon was getting to the age where this type of conversation made him feel very uncomfortable. He didn’t want to stop being friends with her, of course, but at least the ribbing had eased now that the boys didn’t see them together as much.

If the night was warm and dry, Jon and Dany would walk together in the near deserted courtyard, whilst the sound of talking and music from the Great Hall echoed around the castle. At other times they would play Dragons in the corridors or talk in one or other of their rooms - although usually Jon’s, as neither of them wanted to risk running into Viserys. Now they were older, both children were starting to feel that their friendship was something special and private - not to be shared or sullied by rude comments from friends and family - and they started to become rather more cautious and secretive as a result.

Occasionally he  _would_ venture into Dany’s chambers, if she was confident her brother was elsewhere, and there he would enjoy the delicious food and drink she offered him and the quiet, pleasant company of Aegon and Rhaenys who viewed Jon suspiciously at first but quickly warmed to him, despite their regular warnings of Viserys’ wrath if he ever found out Dany was entertaining her friend here.

Jon had always been curious about exploring further down her side of the corridor and so Dany reluctantly took him down the far end one evening where they unfortunately encountered soldiers, dressed in non-Stark colours, who prevented the pair from going through the doorway and eyed Jon very suspiciously. After _that_ encounter, the two friends went back to keeping to the rooms on either side of the long corridor, even if so many of the dark, streaked doors they encountered on her side remained very firmly locked.

“But where were you, Jon?” Robb asked him one morning. “Theon and I looked everywhere last night.”

“In the First Keep, of course,” he replied. “I’m there most evenings.”

“We couldn’t find you.”

Jon just shrugged as they headed off towards the armoury. “You didn’t look hard enough then.”

A young, beautiful lady leaning against the well overheard him as they walked past and laughed gently, tucking a stray strand of hair back under her hood and winking at him cheekily. Jon was certain he had seen the women before but, at that moment, couldn’t place her and had no idea why her smile had made him feel quite so shy and self conscious.

~o~0~o~


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after all that teasing we're moving things along REALLY quickly. And, yes, this time I promise you'll be getting some definite answers.

**Jon III (Aged 10)**

Winterfell was a huge, sprawling castle full of people and Jon realised he took his home for granted at times, not bothering to question certain things about the place. Whilst many of the servants and small folk appeared as permanent as the ancient walls themselves, others would disappear with little or no explanation and Jon just accepted this too, understanding that there would always be visitors and new people arriving, or realising he’d not seen some childhood friend in years and had no idea what had happened to them.

Sometimes he worried that Dany had left too, as weeks would often go by without him seeing her. But then there would be a familiar, gentle knock at his door and in she’d come - her smile as bright as her hair as she lowered her scarf - jumping up to sit cross-legged on his bed, just as she always had done. And, just like that, the two would pick up their easy friendship with rarely a disagreement between them and Jon happily accepted that too, somehow managing to ignore the constant, nagging voice in his head that said there was something very unusual about their friendship

One morning though, as Jon began to head down the corridor to his lessons, something occurred to him and he paused mid-step, looking over his shoulder at the dark door behind him with a frown and suddenly querying something he had always taken for granted.

“South-east,” he decided as he walked out the main door of the First Keep and looked back at the tower. “Dany’s chambers are roughly south-east of mine.” Lessons briefly forgotten, Jon prowled around the base of the keep before heading back inside to get his bearings, still frowning as he continued to wrestle with this strange, new thought.

It didn’t make any sense he decided, as he trailed over to join Robb, his mind racing. He was certain that his own chambers were right up against the castle wall but that just couldn’t be possible, not if the corridor continued to the south-east. Not unless there were rooms built into the curtain wall itself?

He continued to explore the area around the keep in the days that followed, even going out of the East Gate to view the castle walls from the other side, but it still didn’t quite add up. Jon even briefly wondered if perhaps the corridor sloped downwards and that there were rooms housed below ground level, like the crypts, but Dany’s chambers were always so light and airy - generally appearing brighter than his - so he was certain that they had to be above ground too.

During the next couple of weeks Jon became even more sullen, mulling over a number of things which just didn’t seem to add up regarding his best friend, not sharing his concerns with anyone but simply brooding as he starting to wonder if she was actually one of his vivid dreams. A pleasant one, of course, not the strange, scary nightmares he so often had but, still, he really was beginning to think he’d imagined it all. So when Dany did next visit him, jumping up on his bed as usual, Jon just glowered at her, not saying anything for ages.

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “You’re frowning even more than usual.”

“Where have you been?”

“Reading, studying. A couple of times I tried to get through to see you but the door was locked.” She shrugged. “I’m here now though.”

“But _where_ have you been?” he pushed.

“What do you mean? I’ve been next door as always. I told you, Viserys doesn’t allow me to leave our chambers very often.”

“It doesn’t make sense, Dany. None of it does.” He shook his head. “You can’t be real.”

She froze, her eyes narrowing as she tipped her head very slightly and started to lean forwards, her expression passive.

“Really?” she said, her tone deliberate, and Jon only belatedly caught a hint of fire in her eyes, before her fist flew forwards with a surprising amount of strength for one so slight.

“Ow, Dany!” he complained, rubbing the top of his arm.

“How real does _that_ feel, Jon?”

He pouted, still rubbing. Not that it hurt any worse than the many hits he got during training but it was the fact that it was Dany who had punched him. That just didn’t see right, somehow.

“That’s not quite what I meant,” he said. “It’s just ... there’s so much about all of this that doesn’t make sense.”

She leant forwards to take his hand in hers and stoked it gently, a silent apology for the hit, he thought. “I know, I often feel that too but, Jon I _am_ real and so are you and … your friendship is important to me. The most important and the … realest, I suppose despite ...”

She shook her head, obviously wrestling with a few questions of her own and Jon stared down at their hands where she was still rubbing his and tried to work out how such a casual touch could feel quite so good.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“I don’t want to question it, Jon. I don’t want to doubt it … or you, at all. Do you understand?”

He nodded, head still down. “Neither do I. I just … got curious, I suppose.”

“I know, but I don’t want us to talk about this again. All right?”

He sighed, not at all sure that ignoring the issue would be helpful in the long run. “All right.”

“Good,” she said with a firm nod, raising her scarf back over her head. “I want to go outside for a while. I’m getting fed up of being cooped up inside all the time.”

Jon was quick to agree, happy to put the unpleasantness to one side and taking her offered hand as she laughed brightly as she pulled him towards the door. Soon the two friends were running along the corridor and towards the keep’s exit before suddenly skidding to a halt as they almost collided with two small figures who had been making their way inside.

“Ayra!” Jon shouted. “Be careful. What are you doing here?”

“Bran wanted to know where you were so I said we’d come visit you.” She looked up and smiled brightly. “Hello, Dany.”

“Hello, Arya.” His friend knelt down so she was at his siblings’ eye level, giving them one of her perfect, gentle smiles. “My, haven’t you two grown? Especially you, Bran.”

The three year old looked at her shyly before moving subtly closer to his sister. “H-hello?” he managed.

“Oh, but you probably don’t remember me,” she realised. “You were very small the last time we met.”

Bran just blinked, mouth slightly open in surprise and Jon grinned at his reaction, understanding only too well the effect his friend tended to have on people. Then the little boy leant forward, extending a hand and pulling out a lock of hair that was coming loose from her scarf.

“Stars!” he declared, awed as he saw what an unusual colour it was.

Arya was also gaping at her, a bright smile on her face and Dany looked around nervously before tucking the stray stand back into her scarf.

“You’re fine,” Jon reassured her. “I never see your brother out here anyway.” He frowned, his mind refusing the quieten as another several questions crowded around his head.

“You’re doing it again,” she told him.

“What?”

“Thinking. Stop it.” Then she turned back to the two little ones. “Come on then, let’s run around the well for a bit. It’s a really fun game that Jon and I played when we were younger.”

Jon was more than aware that his brother and sister shouldn’t be out here on their own this late in the evening. In fact, he had no idea how Ayra was able to keep sneaking past Septa Mordane, but this certainly wasn’t the first time she’d managed it. Despite that, he decided to humour them both for a time and let them play, all the while moving them subtly closer to the Great Keep. As he’d suspected, it wasn’t long before they were discovered by a worried looking Septa and the two little ones were promptly marched back to the nursery whilst Jon and Dany returned to the First Keep and played Dragons until Old Nan came out and told them it was past their bedtime.

“You should probably go home now,” Jon said as they headed towards the dark door at the end of the corridor.

She shrugged. “I told my brother I was going to bed early to read, so I’m certain he won’t come looking for me but the only problem is sneaking back. He’ll still be awake at this hour and will get cross with me if he realises I came to visit you.”

Jon glowered. “It’s not fair, Dany. I don’t like how mean he is to you.”

She shrugged. “We both have family who are mean to us. That’s why we’re best friends.”

“ _One_ of the reasons,” he agreed. “So, how are you going to get back?”

She shrugged. “I’ll just stay in your room for a while and wait until he’s gone to bed. It’s easy enough. I’ve done it before, after all.”

Jon nodded, heading for his own bed - feeling genuinely sleepy now - and Dany joined him, lying down next to him and closing her eyes. He rolled over to look at her then, frowning slightly as he wondered what people would say if they discovered the pair of them sharing a bed. Fortunately, the only ones who ever came into this room were Old Nan if she heard him yelling after one of his nightmares or Arya during the day if she’d managed to wriggle free of Septa Mordane, and so he allowed himself to relax, eyes growing heavy as he thought to just doze briefly before walking Dany back to her chambers to ensure she got back safely.

However, when he next opened his eyes he was all alone and had to assume that Dany had decided to go home at some point and hadn’t wanted to wake him. However, despite the logic of that and despite the very clear memories of their evening together, Jon couldn’t help wondering, yet again, if maybe he had dreamt the whole encounter.

~o~0~o~

**(Aged 12)**

He saw even less of Dany now. His friend often complained that the dark door was locked when she tried to visit him, but it always opened easily for Jon, even when he was too busy for a proper visit and only pushed at it slightly to check. And being busy was a far more common occurrence for him nowadays, as he had recently gained a number of new responsibilities which often took him away from the castle.

He would regularly go hunting in the Wolfswood with his father, Robb, Theon and some of the men, enjoying the chance to improve his riding and archery and learning the finer points of tracking and hunting the game for their table. Sometimes he and Theon were allowed to join Lord Stark and Robb on other trips too, often riding out to Torrhen’s Square, Last Hearth or White Harbor - Jon watching quietly as Eddard taught his eldest son the finer points of being the lord of Winterfell whilst desperately trying _not_ to feel jealous about his brother’s superior status.

“Whatever happened to that sweetheart of yours, Snow?” Theon teased as they all rode back to Winterfell after one such trip. “I’ve not seen her in ages.”

Jon shrugged, looking nervously over to Lord Stark who might just be in ear shot. “My _friend_ is still around as far as I know.”

“Aye, Arya keeps mentioning her,” Robb said, rolling his eyes. “Going on and on about Winterfell’s resident princess.”

“Princess?” Jon smiled. “It’s true that she and Bran do seem to be in awe of her.”

“Really?” Robb said, frowning. “Like Theon said, I’ve not seen her in a while.”

‘ _Mostly because I’ve been keeping her away from you,’_ Jon thought to himself.

“So, where are you hiding her?” Theon joked.

“I just don’t see her as much any more,” he replied, instead. “Boys don’t have girls as best friends, remember?”

But all that conversation had done was make Jon start to question things again, even though he had promised Dany he wouldn’t. He had almost convinced himself anew that she was just one of his very vivid dreams, but having Theon and his siblings talk about her made him realise that she _had_ to be real, and his mind then inevitably veered back to the issue of the castle and where exactly Dany and her family were housed. He did some more exploring of the lower and basement floors of the First Keep that evening, again trying to find some shred of logic to the layout of his corridor. Once back in his room he moved a stool under the small window, standing up on tiptoes to look out and see if the view held any clues but it was just as he had expected, the broken tower to his left and the large, tall curtain wall to the right. With a loud sigh, Jon undressed and went to bed.

~o~0~o~

He woke up with a jolt after another one of his nightmares, breathing heavily and wondering if the scream he’d heard had been part of his dream or whether it had actually been him. He thought perhaps he was getting better and controlling his reactions now, although the actual terror never truly went away - the cold, stone Kings of Winter constantly mocking him for not belonging here in Winterfell. It shouldn’t be an issue really but it always felt so real. So terrifying.

Jon got out of bed to pace his chambers for a while - his usual cure - but, once it became clear that Old Nan hadn’t woken, he put on his boots and a light cloak and started to head outside, planning to climb up to the wall walk and watch the sun rise as he often did at times like this. However, once in the corridor he paused, his gaze drawn instead to the dark door to his left. It was still very early which meant Dany’s brother was probably still asleep and so perhaps now would be a good time to visit her. It really had been such a long time since he had gone over to her chambers and maybe, if he did, it might help him solve the mystery of the corridor from the other side.

First he placed a palm on the dark door and felt the warmth of it. It was a strange sensation for wood, he decided, and he could feel something else too; something comforting and yet sad and … There was another emotion there too. Jon shuddered and shook his head, suddenly feeling silly for just standing there and so, with a loud sigh, he took hold of the old, metal ring in both hands, twisted and pushed.

The warmth and brightness on the other side immediately confirmed that this area could not possibly be underground. In fact, it was _so_ light here that, if he didn’t know better, Jon would have thought he had moved to the top of the tower, high enough above the castle walls to have caught the dawn sun. Yet another thing that didn’t make any sense. He turned to his left, eyeing the door which would lead into Dany’s chambers, biting his lip as he tried to decide what to do next. Jon had told himself that he was coming here to visit his friend, but now realised that that had just been an excuse and so, before he could talk himself out of it, he continued to walk towards the large archway at the end of the corridor that he had never been allowed to pass through before.

Fortunately, this doorway was unguarded this morning, allowing Jon to step through into a small anti chamber from which a handful more corridors radiated, and he prowled around the space a few times, looking up each corridor and trying to get his bearings. He had already put the lack of logic to one side for the moment, allowing himself to overlook the fact that he should now be deep inside Winterfell’s castle walls, and instead letting instinct guide him. He followed a strange scent and a distant sound like high pitched crows down one corridor and … Jon was sure he’d had heard that bird call before, although he could make little sense of the memory at that moment. Instead he cautiously walked down this new corridor with strange, unfamiliar carvings decorating the walls, before it suddenly widened out and light flooded in from a large, high window, with wide ledges carved out like steps which reached up towards it. He took a breath, heart thudding, clambering up each block until he could finally see out of the window.

“What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

He was impossibly high up, looking down on light grey walls, strange jagged rocks, pale grassland and … the sea. Jon gasped in shock at the sight of the water stretching off to the horizon - populated with numerous ships - and grabbed at the window ledge as everything seemed to tip and spin.

“I’m still dreaming. I must be. It’s the only explanation.” He heard the strange cry again, looking up to see seagulls wheeling overhead in a bright blue morning sky - birds he’d only ever seen at White Harbor - but … there _was_ no sea at Winterfell. “A dream,” he repeated, scrambling down and quickly retracing his steps, suddenly fearful about being discovered here. “This is just a dream which means I’m actually safe in my bed and no-one here can hurt me. All I have to do is wake up.”

He looked again at the carving on the wall, an amazing dragon with sunlight flickering on its scales and making it look almost alive and Jon increased his pace, real terror now starting to set in. “If this place isn’t real then Dany isn’t real and ...”

He saw her in his mind there, with her silver hair and pale eyes, as she sat on his bed and thumped him hard. _“How real does_ that _feel, Jon?”_

“You were right, Dany,” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t have questioned it. I shouldn’t. I think, deep down I always knew but I just ...”

Jon had found his way back to the small anti-chamber then and he stood there, pausing for only a moment before heading down his corridor and towards the welcome dark door at the far end. “Just a dream,” he mumbled as he grasped the ring and pushed. “Just a dream.”

He stepped into the cool, darkness of his own corridor - just the smallest hint of light showing at the far end - and shoved the door closed, leaning his back against the strange warmth and breathing heavily. Then he ran into his own chambers, standing up on the box that was still by his window, looking out on the familiar view and the very faint light which heralded the dawn, despite the obvious brightness he’d seen earlier on the other side.

He shook his head and clambered down quickly removing his boots and lying down on the bed.

“Not going back,” he mumbled. “Going to close my eyes and then wake up and forget I ever dreamed it. Never going back.”

~o~0~o~

Despite his promise, Jon found himself quite unable to forget what he’d seen on the other side of the door, examining all the clues he’d acquired over recent years but hadn’t dared examine too closely, slowly putting them all together and coming to an amazing, slightly bizarre conclusion. So, after lessons the following day he deliberately stayed behind to talk to Maester Luwin alone having decided that this was the easiest way to discuss his concerns without being dismissed as totally mad.

“I wanted to ask you about the Targaryens,” he began quietly.

“What about them, Jon?” the old man asked as he packing away the scrolls and maps from the lessons.

“The ones still living. I hear there are some?”

The man turned towards him. “A few fled to Dragonstone at the end of the rebellion, yes.”

“Dragonstone.” He frowned. “I see. But none of them came here?”

“Here?” Luwin looked surprised. “Why would they come here?”

“I just heard that … that King Robert wanted them killed but Father managed to change his mind and so … I thought perhaps …?”

The old man scoffed. “What? That Lord Stark would shelter them here in Winterfell? I think that would have pushed his friendship with the king a little too far. Don’t you?”

“Yes, I realise that now. It’s just … something I wondered when I was younger. You see, there was a girl I once knew here who had such pale hair and so I thought ...”

“There are many in the world with lightly coloured hair, even if it is a rarity up here. Believe me, Jon, you’d recognise a true Targaryen if you ever saw one and I can assure you that it has been many centuries since any from that House have ever visited Winterfell.”

He nodded. “That’s what I thought but … I was just curious.”

“A little _t_ _oo_ curious sometimes,” the maester said with a small smile. “I suggest you forget all about the Targaryens, Jon. Other than the ones in your history and story books, of course.”

He nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief on having had the conversation. “Thank you, Maester I shall.”

“Off you go now. You don’t want to be late for Ser Rodrik, do you?”

He shook his head in response and hurriedly left the room, feeling as if a heavy weight had somehow been lifted from his shoulders. He would forget all about the dark door - as much as he was able when it was right outside his own - and he would forget about that strange dream and … Dany … if that were even possible. He frowned then, swallowing a sudden lump that had appeared in his throat, wondering at the strange emotion the thought of her had provoked in him.

“Just a dream,” he repeated as he headed out to the courtyard for his sword training. “Just a dream.”

~o~0~o~

**Dany** **III** **(Aged** **1** **2** **)**

**Dragonstone**

Viserys was like a caged shadowcat nowadays, his frustration at being stuck here making him more and more volatile. He had plans, he said. Plans to get them all away from here and over to Essos, but Aegon and Rhaenys had their doubts about that and all of them grew increasingly nervous as more ships appeared around the island and her brother took all his frustrations at effectively having been under siege all these years out on them.

At times Dany wondered if all her brother’s talk of ‘loyal friends’ was another one of his disillusions or that perhaps the famous Targaryen madness had somehow visited her whole family. After all, she could have sworn that Rhaegar had visited when she was small, despite knowing now that that was impossible. And then there was all the strangeness connected with Jon and the area around his chambers which made her think that he had been right all along and their whole friendship was just some strange, vivid dream.

She hadn’t seen her best friend in months and the last couple of times she had tried to visit, the dark door had been cold and unyielding, stubbornly refusing to open for her. Her casual comments about finding a key for it were met by amusement by Aegon who told her they were ancient remnants of an earlier build and didn’t even lead anywhere. When her brother came back into the room half way through one such conversation, his reaction was far more aggressive.

“You’re not a Dragon,” Viserys snarled at her, before turning his attention to the others. “None of you are. Don’t even think to understand such magic.”

“Magic?” Aegon asked, curiously.

“And you’re not even fully Targaryen, nephew, so what would _you_ know?” he snapped. “And you two are just girls, not princes.” Viserys muttered under his breath, pacing, glaring at the dark door next to Dany’s chambers as if it had personally insulted him somehow - the one she was sure that Rhaegar had once shown her. “They’re all dead now,” he mumbled. “All gone. The Dragon must have three heads but … I’m the last one.”

She had so many things she wanted to ask him then. So many faint memories of old questions that she was certain Viserys could answer if only she had the nerve to ask, but her brother would not talk of ancient, locked doors or magic, simply snarling about the Usurper and how their many loyal friends would help return their family to its rightful place within the Seven Kingdoms.

And then Illyerio returned.

Dany remembered the man from when she was small; a strange smiling visitor who, rather like Rhaegar, she had recently started to think had been part of her dreams. She only saw him briefly this time, Viserys reluctantly allowed the man to become reacquainted with his family before scurrying away with him for urgent meetings.

“What do you think is happening?” she asked her niece and nephew.

“More discussions about smuggling us off of here, I expect,” Rhaenys said. “After all, if Illyrio can get past the Baratheons then there’s no reason why he can’t help us to escape.”

“It’s not as easy as that,” Aegon disagreed. “The Magister has good reason to be in these waters and so can easily sweet-talk his way past the patrols. You imagine that _we_ can get past as easily?” He scoffed. “Well, _you_ might get away with it, dear sister, but us three won’t stand a chance? They’ll take one look at our hair and send us all gift wrapped to the Usurper in a heart-beat.”

And, although it was apparently true that Ilyrio was not going to be able to smuggle all four of them off the island, it appeared that he _was_ prepared to attempt it with Viserys.

“Shouldn’t it be Aegon who goes?” Rhaenerys asked. “He is the true heir to the Iron Throne, after all.”

“Which is why he is safer here,” Illyrio said with his usual smile. “Consider this a trial run.”

“But it’s more than that,” Viserys said. “We have contacts over there. People who know me from when I was living in King’s Landing. In that way I can speak on your behalf, nephew, and gain the support our family needs.”

Aegon was not at all convinced though, grumbling about now having to worry about his uncle taking away his birthright too.

“As if any of that matters while we’re stuck on here?” Rhaenys scolded her brother. “What do you know of the politics of King’s Landing and Essos, Aegon? Let Viserys deal with all of that and allow Illyrio to plan our escape.”

And so Dany’s brother left in the dead of a moonless night, bundled up in dark clothes and scarves, and the three younger Targaryens spent the next several months anxiously awaiting news. With ravens likely to be shot down, it was some time before they discovered that the pair had successfully made it over to Essos, even if the age of the message itself meant they could not be certain of what was happening right at that moment.

However, the one big advantage of Viserys being away was that the three of them now had a lot more freedom. Although the captain of their guard still did not want them going outside, he seemed a lot less concerned about Viserys’ restriction on keeping them to the older part of the castle and Daenerys found herself suddenly more content than she had been in months, especially seeing her last few attempts to visit Jon had been thwarted. She spent much of that first free day exploring Dragonstone in a way she had never been able to before, learning of its secret corridors and towers and marvelling at all the wonderful dragon carvings which decorated the walls.

And, as for the Throne room! All three children loved to take it in turns to sit on the amazing chunk of natural stone which seemed to grow out of the very floor, with even the usually annoying Aegon happy for the girls to play queen - Viserys’ absence making all of them far more relaxed and easy going than usual.

And yet, as they revelled in this small, new freedom, the noose was starting to tighten, every new day heralding the arrival of an extra enemy ship, with the usual yellow and black Baratheon sails now joined by Lannister red and gold and slowly but surely outnumbering the huge dragon fleet that Rhaegar had originally sent over with them.

The three Targaryen youngsters watched nervously from the tall castle windows, as the ships bobbed and circled, wondering about Viserys and his plans and genuinely worrying that the Usurper had decided that they were a threat to his rule after all and was planning on moving to attack.

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely responses to this and all your guesses. Well done to MandyC and justwandering-never lost for correctly guessing the idea of the portal. You both made responding to your comment(s) really difficult! 
> 
> And so, yes, for all of you wondering how on earth a family of Targaryens were staying hidden in Winterfell, the answer is ... they weren't. And Dany's only 'visiting' occasionally with her hair now fully covered (unless small toddlers get too close!) 
> 
> The original plan had been to drag out their childhood for far longer with these events covering two or three chapters but, as cute as the two of them are as kids, that is not really what this fic is all about, so we're now staying in their early teens for a few more chapters where things are about to get dramatic!
> 
> Still plenty of questions left though, especially regarding the old man and young woman. There are clues to that here and the start of chapter 4 should make it even more obvious. You might even like to read the first two chapters again with all this new knowledge and see if you can pick up on a few more things.
> 
> I have loved reading all your polite comments, theories and questions and look forward to more. I really am delighted by the responses to this fic.  Thank you xxx


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as I was wondering what art I could use to promote this chapter now they're no longer little kids, the wonderful [justwandering-neverlost](https://justwandering-neverlost.tumblr.com/)/[the-last-targaryens](https://the-last-targaryens.tumblr.com/) offered me a new mood board which will last nicely until the end of Act One. Thanks to her and the other Discerning Tarts for all their support and inspiration.
> 
> And thank you for all your enthusiasm and questions. It's been so helpful to get all your feedback on this one. More answers today? Yes.  However, just as you think you're getting a handle on this story, I'm about to add another couple of layers to the mix. 

****

**Dany IV (Aged 12)**

**Dragonstone**

“Daenerys. Wake up!”

She jumped at the sound of a man’s deep, urgent voice whispering close to her ear, opening her eyes to total darkness, her heart pounding.

“What? Who …?”

On the other side of her door she could hear some muffled sounds; the faint ring of metal followed by a crash and a small cry and her heart raced even faster as she sat up, suddenly fearful.

“You have to leave here now,” the man urged. “It’s no longer safe.”

Understanding dawned. “The Usurper has finally come for us.”

“Yes.”

She blinked, willing her eyes to adjust to the darkness, but seeing little more than a shadow kneeling next to her bed along with the smell of leather, smoke and oil. It was one of their soldiers, she guessed, immediately following his instructions and wondering why she did not feel more concerned about being alone with a man in her bed-chambers whilst only wearing her thin nightdress.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“A friend.” His voice was soft and deep and slightly familiar but, with no candle lit, she was quite unable to recognise him. She squinted again at the shadowy form next to her as her eyes partially adjusted to the gloom, but was only able to make out a few, basic details; dark hair, a beard, not especially old. “We need to go. Get yourself through the dark door and warn Jon.”

“Jon?”

The soldier chuckled. “No time, Dany ...” A firm hand pressed against her back and she staggered towards her own door, still half asleep and very confused. “Wait ...” He was now close up against her back and she felt a strange shudder go through her at the proximity. On the other side of her door she could hear voices and faint, unpleasant, muffled sounds. “Shit ...” the man mumbled behind her and she heard the unmistakable sound of a sword being partially drawn from its scabbard.

She turned her head to see a flash of shimmering steel and a pale pommel visible through dark gloves, and then the door was yanked opened and the man pulled her even closer. Despite his strength and her vulnerability Dany strangely felt no fear at the move, somehow instinctively knowing he could be trusted. Then they entered the living room to the sight of three soldiers in black and yellow looking straight at them and a worryingly familiar shape lying unmoving on the floor.

“Shana!” she cried, but her rescuer held her firmly, preventing her from moving towards her handmaiden and instead pushing her behind him as he stepping forward, his sword now fully raised as he silently confronted the Baratheon men. Dany blinked as a hint of dawn light filtering in through the high windows allowed her to see her saviour a little more clearly, although his choice of dark clothing explained why he had appeared so shadowy before. She watched him dance forwards, sword reflecting the sunlight, as he deftly and quickly felled one of the attackers. Then he spun around and finished off another. The third came screaming towards him and he danced away yet again, before quickly glancing back at her.

“Now, Daenerys. Head quickly through the door to Jon. It’s the only way out for you now.”

As the man spun again, she realised that he had been subtly moving the remaining enemy soldier further into the living room, thus giving her a better chance to escape. Suddenly determined, she willed her shaking legs to move and headed out into the corridor.

“There! Another Targaryen.”

Dany squeaked as she glanced left and saw more men running towards her, these ones wearing Lannister red and gold.

“Two more coming,” she yelled over her shoulder at her rescuer. He had finished off those other two very easily and so she assumed - hoped - he would be able to fend this pair off as well.

“Run,” was all he said in reply and so she did.

“Targaryen scum!” the men screamed as they charged down the corridor and Dany turned right towards the dark door, wondering how she would be any safer on the other side of it and suddenly concerned about leading the soldiers straight towards her best friend.

But she trusted the knight who had woken her, because she knew she would be dead by now if he hadn’t, and he had told her to warn Jon and, anyway, there were no other options left to her now. So, hoping the door would actually let her through this time, Dany took a deep breath and pushed, heaving a sigh of relief as it opened easily, before slipping through and quickly shoving it closed, for all the good such a weak barrier would do her.

~o~0~o~

She closed the door on the early dawn sun only to be greeted by total darkness on the other side, the slippery flagstones cold underneath her bare feet. With a sob, she allowed her memory to guide her, feeling her way towards the right hand wall and from there to the door, fumbling blindly until she found the latch and entered her friend’s chambers.

“Jon, Jon, wake up! We’re under attack.”

“W-what? Dany?”

“Soldiers … they’re attacking.”

She heard him fumble around in the darkness and, shortly afterwards, a candle flickered to life revealing his shadowy form and allowing her to see him sitting up and blinking sleepily, his curly hair even more of a mess than usual.

“We can’t stay here, they're right behind the door,” she told him. “They’ll be in the corridor by now.”

“It’s all right,” he said gently. “You just had a nightmare, is all.”

“No it’s real and … Shana … I think she’s dead and … What about Rhaenys and Aegon and …?” She was by his side now, grabbing at his arm and then at his hand when she realised he wasn’t wearing a shirt she could tug at. “And you’ll need a sword …. do you have one here?”

“Why would I have one here? We’re not in any danger.”

“We are! There were soldiers and then this brave knight and ...” She sobbed. “Please, Jon.”

He sighed, getting out of bed and scrabbling to put on a shirt before moving towards her and awkwardly offering his arm. It had been a while since she’d last seen him, Dany realised - she wasn’t quite sure now how long - and her friend had grown a bit since, looking lean and lanky and ... She blinked, briefly experiencing a strange disorientation, before shaking her head and pulling him impatiently towards the door.

“You can’t go out like that,” Jon said then. “Here, you’re shivering.” A rough, grey shirt was pushed into her hands and she quickly put it over her head, not even sure if she was shaking from the fear or the cold. “And these boots,” he continued. “I’ve just grown out of them. They still might be a bit big for you, but you can’t go out there in bare feet.”

“I-I’m not sure,” Dany said. “Perhaps we should just stay here but then again … we do need to warn everyone.”

“Ssh, it’ll be all right, I promise.” He put his arm around her pulling her close against his side; the gesture feeling oddly familiar. “I’ll protect you.”

“But you don’t have a sword.”

“It’ll be fine.” He creaked the door open slowly, leaning forwards and listening before pulling it a little wider. Only when he was satisfied the coast was clear did he allow her to step forwards. “There, you see. All quiet.”

She clutched his arm all the tighter, fear still coiling through her. “I … I don’t understand. He told me to come here. To warn you.”

“Who did?”

“The dark knight.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon said with a sigh. “I have nightmares of my own and I know how real they can feel.”

She didn’t know what to say in reply. It _had_ been real. That was her life, the constant fear of attack from Baratheons and of her brother and … it was _this_ which often felt like a dream. A dream she’d conjured up as a means of escape, she had started to believe. As she walked with Jon down the cool, deserted corridor and to the base of the keep Dany slowly began to accept that she was actually safe here, even though she knew the horrors she had left behind would have to be faced eventually.

‘ _It wasn’t a nightmare._ This _is the dream,’_ she repeated to herself.

And yet, how could a dream look, feel and smell so real? How could she have made all of this up?

“This way,” Jon whispered. “It’s nearly dawn and people will be out and about soon but they won’t question us, not if we stay quiet and stick to the shadows.”

“Where are we going?”

“Up onto the wall walk,” he replied. “I need you to see for yourself.”

Jon moved them towards a set of stone steps hugging the castle wall and jumped agilely up onto the first one before holding his hand out to her and, as she placed hers on top, now feeling a little calmer, Dany noted with interest how much bigger his was than hers now. As she stepped up beside him and the sky lightened a little she was finally able to see her friend more clearly, aware of the subtle changes since the last time she had been here.

“All right?” he asked, his dark eyes kind and concerned.

She nodded. “You’ve grown.”

He pulled a face. “Not much. Not enough.”

“You’re thirteen now?” she said as they headed upwards. “Still plenty of time and you’re still taller than me.”

He smiled then, standing to one side to help her up the last slightly higher step to the top of the wall. “Are you afraid of heights?” She shook her head. “Good. Come and see.”

Their timing was perfect. As Dany stepped up on the low stone step against the wall and looked up over the battlements, the sun finally rose, bathing the scene before her in a glorious yellow light and she gasped as she took in the view: miles and miles of heathland and moorland, a patchwork of green, yellow and purple and, off on the horizon, forests and dramatic hills and white clouds scurrying across a pale summer sky.

Her gasp at the vast beauty of it turned to the shock of realisation as she finally understood that she couldn’t be here. Couldn’t possibly be seeing this. Where was the sea? Where were the sharp stone cliffs and the grey dragon gates? _Where_ was she?

“You see,” Jon said, his voice calm. “It’s all clear. No-one can sneak up on us here, I promise you. We’d have days of warning and, anyway, it’s all been peaceful since King Robert’s been on the throne."

She turned to him and snatched her hand away with a sharp breath through her teeth which came out as a hiss. “No!”

“What? What is it?”

She shook her head, not knowing how to answer. Not understanding … anything.

“I’m not teasing you, Dany, I told you. I know how real nightmares can feel. I’ll tell you about mine if you like? I’ve not told anyone but … if it makes you feel better.”

She glared at him. “How will hearing about what scares you make _me_ feel better?”

She wasn’t entirely certain she wanted his kindness right now. She wasn’t exactly sure how to handle it. Had she made him up to be like that? Had she invented a male who was kind and thoughtful and … perfect, in response to her brother and all his meanness and spitefulness.

But, Viserys had met Jon and so had Rhaenys and Aegon and … they had seen him and talked about him and so had that soldier earlier. How could he be a dream if the people she knew had actually met him?

“Dany?”

She dared to look up to find Jon’s face surprisingly close - those dark eyes now looking exceptionally concerned - and he raised a hand to her cheek to wipe away a tear which only made even more start to flow. Before Dany had even realised what she was doing she was sobbing against his chest and he was holding her close, one hand stroking her hair, another gently rubbing her back.

“I missed you,” she managed.

“I missed you too. I really should have visited more often but ...” He sighed. “I know you hit me before when I suggested it but still, at times, I’m quite sure you’re not real and … none of this makes any sense.”

She didn’t have to ask what he was talking about. “I know.”

Jon’s chest heaved as he took a deep breath. “You’re Targaryen, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

He exhaled heavily. “You shouldn’t be here. You _can’t_ be here.”

She nodded. “If this is the dream then I don’t want to wake up, Jon. I want to stay here with you forever.”

He pulled away then and looked at her, wide-eyed, and Dany saw him suddenly swallow hard. “You’re even prettier than I remember,” he whispered.

“With my hair all tangled and my eyes red?”

He nodded. “You are usually so neat … it makes a nice change.”

She smiled and he licked his lips before ducking his head and then shaking it. “What?” she asked.

He looked up at her through, long dark eyelashes. “I … may I kiss you?”

Dany gasped, looking at him in shock. Her hands were held in his, the sun was rising over the distant hills and, for a moment, she had to fight the urge to giggle at just how ridiculously perfect it all was - she must have been reading too many of Rhaenys’ stories about brave knights and princesses lately - but this was just a dream, after all, and so she nodded her consent and Jon bent down and lightly touched his lips to hers - so soft, so gentle - and she felt a delightful flutter in her tummy as he pulled away, his cheeks now bright pink.

“Some cheeky girl asked me to kiss her a few weeks ago,” he mumbled.

“Oh?”

He nodded. “I refused though. I wanted _you_ to be my first.”

She smiled brightly. “I’m glad.”

He looked around then, frowning. “We’d better get back. You forgot your head-scarf and your hair is a bit too obvious.” She nodded and accepted his hand again as they headed down the narrow steps. “You’re Targaryen and you were attacked by … Baratheons?” he asked nervously.

“Yes and Lannisters. How did you know?”

He shrugged. “Something my father said recently.”

And finally she pieced it together; all those names and clues and now the view from the top of this wall, draped with grey and white wolf banners. “Your father, Eddard Stark?”

“Yes.”

Her heart dropped. Jon was her enemy then but … _was_ this a dream? There was still so much that didn’t make sense. “I don’t want to go back yet,” she mumbled.

“We need to return to my chambers, at least. It’s still early and everyone was up late feasting last night so … we’ve got a couple of hours before I need to be anywhere.”

She nodded, trailing behind him back down the corridor towards his room. She eyed the dark door nervously but Jon simply took her hand, pulling her back into his chambers and then leading her towards his bed, patting the edge of it and inviting her to sit down. He then perched next to her, putting an arm slightly awkwardly around her as she leant against his shoulder with a deep sigh.

“I’m so tired now,” she said.

“Me to but … You can take my bed and I’ll ...” He looked around a bit nervously.

She shook her head. “No, Jon. Stay with me. Please.”

It had been a while since they had shared his narrow bed, but they were still both fairly small and skinny, despite the added years, and soon Dany was lying on her side, her head resting on Jon’s shoulder as she felt her eyes grow heavy. “I don’t want to go back there,” she repeated.

“And I don’t want you to leave," he said, hugging her close.  "I want you safe. I want you here so that I can protect you.”

“You are so kind, Jon. So perfect,” she sighed deeply. “Far _too_ perfect.”

This _had_ to be a dream but Dany knew that if she fell asleep here she would wake up back … there, and she didn’t think she was ready to face all that that quite yet. All she wanted to do was stay here with Jon forever. So she would try her best to stay awake for as long as she could except … she really was just so very tired and ...

~o~0~o~

**Jon IV (Aged 13)**

**Winterfell**

“Wake up, you lazy arse!”

“What?” Jon jolted awake, confused, sitting up to find his chambers bathed in daylight and Theon standing over him with a smirk on his face.

“It’s halfway through the morning and Rodrik’s close to spitting feathers. We had no idea where you were.”

“I ...” Jon blinked, trying to get his head together after that intense dream. It _had_ been a dream, right? “I didn’t sleep well and went for a walk at dawn to clear my head.”

He scrambled out of bed and looked around trying to make sense of everything. He was wearing a shirt despite having gone to bed without - as was his custom during the warmest nights - and there, next to the bed, were his old boots. The ones that were now too small for him and he’d planned on handing down to his young friend at the kennels. He put on his own larger ones, also now lying untidily on the floor, before following Theon out, ignoring the boy’s gleeful comments about how much trouble he was going to be in, as his mind raced.

He had dreamt about Dany. He had dreamt that she’d come into his room, scared and talking about an attack. They had walked down this corridor together and then up onto the wall walk where … He gasped.

“What?” Theon asked.

“N-nothing.”

… where he had kissed her, and it had felt amazing but … It couldn’t have really happened, could it? Then, afterwards, Dany had come back to his chambers and … Well thank goodness it _had_ been a dream. What if Theon had come in this morning to find her asleep in his bed with him? He tried hard not to laugh at the thought, quickly schooling his expression as he walked into the training area.

“There you are, Jon. Where were you?”

“You have my sincere apologies, Ser Rodrik,” he replied with a slight bow of his head. “I slept very badly last night.”

The man looked at him for the longest time before responding. “Well, seeing you are usually so prompt and willing I shall overlook it just this once. Assuming you do not slacken today during training.”

“Yes, Ser. Thank you.”

He kept his expression neutral until after the man had turned away before smirking at Theon who was looking highly disappointed. Jon had quickly discovered that the advantage of being generally quiet, polite and hard working meant that the very occasional misdemeanour tended to get over-looked. Theon was especially slow in learning this lesson, Jon noticed, with his general cockiness and openly disrespectful attitude meaning he could even get blamed for things he _hadn’t_ done. Jon was thinking it might be interesting to test out that theory soon, and see if he could pull a prank and get Theon in trouble for it, although he’d have to keep a low profile for a while before attempting such a thing.

For a start he tried to put aside all thoughts of his ‘dream’ and focus on his training as he really did enjoy sword fighting and was getting plenty of praise for it nowadays. The three boys were now growing taller and stronger, which helped, but the current downside was their lack of co-ordination and errant mood swings. Fortunately, Jon didn’t seem to suffer as much from either, probably because he wasn’t growing as fast as the other two and had always been a moody child anyway, meaning he had long since learnt to either put his emotions to one side or use them to his advantage as Ser Rodrik had often suggested.

During a break Jon stalked away from the area to find a quiet place to think through what had happened this morning, assuming for now that it _had_ been real and that he really had had a conversation with his best friend who had finally confirmed she was a Targaryen and was scared about an attack by Baratheons. He had then taken her up on the wall to show her it was safe and had seen her expression whilst they were up there - her total disbelief at where she found herself. Well, he knew exactly how _that_ felt, having experienced the same shock himself when he’d gone exploring over on her side.

The two friends had grown up thinking they lived next door to each other but now both knew that wasn’t true. Jon’s chambers were right next to the curtain wall with nothing on the other side, despite the fact that he had so often opened that dark, ancient door and just kept on walking. It had been three years since he’d last attempted it and had vowed never to return, but perhaps now it required further exploration except … Would it be safe? What had _really_ happened there last night?

There _were_ still Targaryen’s alive in Westeros, Maester Luwin had confirmed that a group had fled King’s Landing at the end of the rebellion and had effectively been under siege for the last twelve years. Did Dany actually exist then? Had there really been an attack last night? Or had he simply invented a Targaryen friend - a beautiful princess out of Old Nan’s stories - and his brain had somehow muddled up various things he’d heard recently into that incredibly vivid dream. The blood of the First Men ran through his veins, after all. Magical blood. Perhaps that helped to explain why so many of his dreams and nightmares felt so real.

‘ _I kissed her.’_ For some reason Jon was having a great deal of trouble putting that part to one side, his mind wandering off from his serious thoughts every time he recalled the feel of her soft lips pressed against his.

He continued to feel uneasy and nervous, taking an especially close interest in the next few ravens to arrive, and following Maester Luwin as the old man ambled back and forth with scrolls. Jon hardly needed his keen observations skills to know when the anticipated news had arrived, the old man almost slamming the door behind him and walking at a surprisingly fast pace for one of his age, far too preoccupied to notice the dark haired boy standing in the shadows or realise he was being followed up the keep steps towards his Lord’s chambers.

Once the maester had moved inside his father’s study, Jon pressed his ear to the door, glancing over his shoulder occasionally to ensure no-one could see him eavesdropping. At first he was unable to make out anything other than the low mutterings of Luwin and his father’s slightly impatient response but any concern he had about not being able to hear the news was soon banished at Lord Stark’s loud bellow.

“What the seven hells was he thinking? That pig-headed, stubborn boar!”

“My lord ...” Luwin’s voice was quieter but still audible. “It’s not as if he hasn’t been threatening it for years now.”

“And I have told him repeatedly that it was madness. The whole idea of it. The Targaryens are no threat to him now. Not with the support of the whole realm behind him. Hostage them out as we did with young Greyjoy, that’s what I told him but, would he listen? No! Too blinded by his hatred of Rhaegar to do the right thing.”

“The Targaryen children would always be a threat to his rule though, once they were grown.”

“As I’m sure quite Tywin has been reminding him on a regular basis. Madness! Marry them off to his own children or those of his allies, that’s what I said. Quieten the grumbles about the Iron throne only belonging to those of pure Targaryen blood. Strengthen the bond between Dorne too and now … now if Elia’s children are dead? What will the Martells do when they hear this news, eh?”

“It certainly won’t help to keep the peace, that’s true,” Luwin replied.

“And they’re all dead? Is that certain?”

Jon held his breath, shaking his head. _‘She’s not real … and if she’s not real_ _then_ _she_ can’t _be dead.’_ He felt tears prick his eyes but stubbornly blinked them away.

“They killed anyone they found alive there, apparently, but there’s no way of knowing if any escaped before or after. There are rumours that Rhaegar’s brother was seen recently in Essos and some say Aegon is over there too.”

“Aegon!” Ned scoffed. “Ridiculous. The whole thing is madness.”

“Will you reply, My Lord?” Luwin asked.

“I would not dare put pen to parchment right now. You scribe it, Luwin. Write my polite disapproval and then bring it for me to look over.”

“Polite, My Lord?”

“Aye, as tempted as I am to tell Robert exactly what I think, I doubt our friendship would save me from his ire … nor that of his father by law if he got wind of it. No, I’ll trust in your diplomatic skills better than mine own at the moment.”

“As you say, My Lord.” Luwin’s voice got suddenly louder and Jon stood slowly and quietly backing away, walking lightly around the corner and taking a different route back down to the courtyard, his head spinning even more now after everything he had just heard.

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone seems to latch onto different things during each chapter so I won't steer you here.  Just feel free to make any observations or ask questions and I will do my best to respond without spoilers. 
> 
> Those of you who follow my iamthewatcheronthewall Tumblr may have noticed my mid-week promo where I updated my chapter estimate and promised regular, Sunday updates for the whole of Act 1 and Act 2 at least!  That's 12 chapters (6 per Act) most of which are roughly done already.  With luck, Act 3 and 4 should also continue without a pause but there are still a good number of knots to untangle before I can promise that with any certainty.  So yes, a guesstimate of 24 chapters for this story.  Will be interesting to see if I can stick with that. I have updated my profile with this info if you want to take a closer look at the plan.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to ALL my Jonerys friends who support me and my writing (and art) in one way or another and especially for bombarding me with love the last couple of days. I’m generally quiet on my Tumblr blogs, communicating mostly through reblogs, promo posts and the very occasional comment post but please know I appreciate you all so much. 
> 
> The reaction to the last chapter was amazing, thank you, although the attention this fic is gaining is freaking me out somewhat. As many of you know, I started to plan this story in January but kept putting it to one side as I struggled to make it work. Various aspects of the last couple of acts continue to tie me up in knots but this story seems to have a life of its own and has always flatly refused to be abandoned so ... onwards and upward and let's find out what really happened on Dragonstone.

**Jon V (Aged 13)**

**Winterfell**

Jon was now spending far more time in the library tower than usual, trying to find out as much about the Targaryens as he could. Any spare moment he had would be spent at a desk there with a book on one side and a map resting open next to it, reacquainting himself with the facts as he’d been taught them by Maester Luwin, whilst also seeing if he could find anything to either confirm or contradict his strange dreams about Dany and the mystery of the castle by the sea.

If anyone noticed him acting even more sullen and detached than normal they didn’t mentioned it, most of them now perfectly used to the bastard of Winterfell keeping to himself. Of course, all three of the oldest boys were reaching that age where they were becoming more moody and isolated and so Jon’s extra distraction was less likely to be commented on, especially considering he had been that way even when most lads were silly and carefree.

Lord Stark had allowed the three young men to sit in on his meetings for a while now and Jon realised he had even more reason to pay attention to these discussion after recent events. He had often questioned the need for him to attend at all, wondering what a bastard, who would never have a hold-fast of his own, would gain from such knowledge. However, as a man grown, he would either fight for Robb or for the Night’s Watch and so knowledge of strategy and Houses and the day to day running of a castle would still be important for him, despite not having the right to hold any lands of his own.

The main concern today was the reports of thefts within Winterfell; a highly unusual occurrence when Lord Stark was so generous to all those he protected, keen to ensured that none ever went without. Eddard had made it widely known that anyone within the castle and Winter Town should come to ask for help if they ever found themselves unable to support themselves or their families, and so why anyone would feel the need to steal bread, milk, cheese and meat from the castle stores was a mystery to all concerned.

“How much is missing?” Ned asked.

“Not much at all,” Poole replied. “I’m sure further south they’d not even notice. It’s less about the amount and more as to why.”

Ned nodded. “Post a couple of guards around the stores then, but make it clear that they are only to apprehend this thief if caught. I do not wish any harm to come to this person but I do need to talk to them and discover why they felt unable to come to me for help.”

“As you say, My Lord.”

~o~0~o~

“What have you heard about the Targaryens recently?” Jon asked Robb as the brothers headed to training after the meeting.

He shrugged. “That King Robert finally lost patience and attacked them.”

“I don’t think Father is too pleased about that.”

Robb scoffed. “No, but you see how lenient he is being about this thief? In most places they’d send a man to the Wall for stealing a loaf of bread so it’s not surprising the lengths our king will go to for the theft of our aunt.”

“He’s already avenged Lyanna though,” Jon replied. “So, how is killing Rhaegar’s whole family years after the event in any way fair?”

Robb shrugged. “Well, it seems that Father agrees with you but, of course, it’s not as simple as that. The Targaryens are a threat to Robert’s throne too and I think it’s clear that Lord Tywin had a hand in finally persuading him to force the issue.”

“Did any survive, do you think?”

“There are rumours, aye. Some are talking of a sighting in Pentos.” He turned to Jon curiously. “You always were enamoured with the Targaryens, Jon. You and Arya and ...” He frowned then as if struggling to recall a memory.

“My imaginary friend,” Jon finished, looking at his brother closely to gauge his reaction. He and Theon had so loved to tease him about his ‘sweetheart’ back then. Or had he imagined those interactions too? “Although she wasn’t, really,” he continued calmly. “She was just a girl who used to live here and then moved away.”

Robb nodded. “Yes, I remember her, of course. Pretty little thing.”

Jon breathed out, strangely pleased at his brother’s confession. _‘Perhaps I’m not_ _going_ _mad after all.’_

~o~0~o~

Jon sat up in bed with a start, woken by a quiet but familiar sound outside his chambers. _‘The door!’_ He scrambled up, putting on his shirt and boots before heading out into the corridor, and a quick glance to the right was all it took to see a small figure turning the corner at the end. _‘Dany?’_

He was about to follow, when some strange instinct caused him to turn back and place one palm on the old wooden door briefly, surprised to find it much cooler than usual. Curious, he grabbed and turned the metal ring and pushed, only to meet with stern resistance. Dany had often told him the door was locked but Jon had never once had that issue, always finding it warm and easy to open whenever he had tried. He paused, briefly torn between two decisions before heading off after her. It _was_ Dany, he was certain, and he now thought he had worked out something of what was going on here.

He may have lost sight of his friend for now but suspected she was headed to the kitchen store rooms. Quickly and quietly Jon headed in that direction, sneaking around the back and then openly walking out in front of the guards, yawning widely.

“Who goes there?” the man said.

“Huh?” he responded, feigned surprise. “Oh, sorry, it’s just Jon. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Oh right … how are you?”

“All right. How’s it looking tonight?”

“All quiet,” the guard replied. “No sign of our thief.”

‘ _Not unless you turn around now and see a small figure dashing in behind you,’_ Jon thought, trying very hard _not_ to look at her.

“Well, hopefully the extra guards will make all the difference,” he said out loud, raising his voice a little, not too much to make it obvious, but hopefully loud enough for Dany to hear. Fortunately she didn’t stay inside for long, soon running back out with something hugged closely to her chest. “Anyway, I’d better not distract you. I think I’ll go back to my chambers and see if I can get some more sleep.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, lad. You coming along has saved me from being told off from falling asleep at my post.”

Jon grinned at the man before sprinting back towards the First Keep, hoping he might be able to catch Dany before she left. Unfortunately, the corridor was deserted when he arrived back and she didn’t come past him, no matter how slowly he walked. Jon was just about to head back into his room when he paused, again walking over to the door and placing his hand on it. The wood hummed with its usual, pleasant warmth and the door shifted very slightly when he pushed at it.

“Interesting,” he mumbled, resisting the obvious temptation and instead heading back into his own chambers.

~o~0~o~

The next day he did a little pilfering of his own, knowing he could make it far less obvious than his friend had. The three oldest boys were growing rapidly now and all the training and riding they were doing meant their bodies seemed constantly desperate for food. The cooks and kitchen staff humoured them all and Jon was always surprised at how enthusiastically the females in particular would rush to find him extra snacks whenever he asked.

So, throughout the day he’d hop into the kitchen to plead hunger, asking different servants at different times until he’d collected a decent portion of supplies. Uncertain exactly what was happening with Dany on the other side after the attack, and not confident about going through himself under such circumstances, Jon decided to wrap the food up in a cloth sack, along with a couple of his old, small shirts and trousers and a large candle, before leaving the bundle right by the door on his side of the corridor with a note tied around the top.

> _Extra guards now. Be very careful. Drop a note under my door telling me what you need and where the best place is to leave the food for you. Not sure if I should come through or not._
> 
> _\- Jon_

He woke up sleepily the next day having briefly forgotten about his little mercy mission until he went to leave his chambers and noticed a scruffy piece of parchment on the floor by his door which had obviously been pushed underneath. He leant down eagerly, heart racing as he unfurled it to find a strange sketch on one side and a scribbled note on the other.

> _Best you don’t come through. I’m safe for now, don’t worry. Thank you for the warnings. Here are a couple of things that would be useful as long as it won’t get you into trouble._
> 
> _\- Dany_

‘Don’t worry,’ she said, but he did. He worried what would happen if he went over there, especially now he understood that there was some magic involved and that he would no longer be in Winterfell, and he worried that Dany had been desperate enough for food that she had had to come through and steal from them, not only putting herself in danger but also risking exposing their strange secret.

She had managed to get away away with being a small, light-haired child wandering around Winterfell all those years ago - although wearing that scarf had helped - but now? Surely now it would be far harder to hide what she was, especially if she was caught during one of her raids. All in all, it seemed better to continue like this, with Dany leaving a list of the things she needed and Jon quietly collecting them up to deliver the following evening.

Soon he started to add a few extra things in the sack too - some beads he’d bought from the market in Wintertown, a flower from the Godswood that caught his eye, or a trinket he’d bartered or swapped with his siblings - and Dany would return the favour, leaving him small items that she had found on her side. Her gifts were a lot more basic than his, usually sea shells and unusual stones which had him totally fascinated, especially this one dark, shiny rock which seemed more like glass than stone but, despite the simple nature of her gifts, Jon treasured them as if they were gold, hoarding them all in a little wooden box which he kept by his bed along with all of her letters.

Even years later, whenever Jon was feeling unhappy, he would sift through her gifts and notes, the sight of his very special collection always able to make him smile.

~o~0~o~

**Dany V (Aged 12)**

**Dragonstone - The morning After the Attack**

“Jon?”

Dany sat up with a start and then gasped at the sight before her. Daylight now flooded her bed-chambers revealing a room in ruin - furniture knocked over, hangings and bed covers torn - and yet here she lay in the centre of it all, completely unharmed.

And she had been with Jon in … Winterfell? Was that the dream or was this the nightmare? If this was reality then she knew what she would encounter on the other side of that door and that really wasn’t something she felt ready to face. Dany hugged her knees to her chest, trying to get her head together, trying to recall everything that had happened or she _thought_ had happened last night when her dark knight had woken her and sent her over to see Jon.

She finally forced herself to move, heading over to her chest to look for a change of clothes, struggling to find any that had not been ripped or spoiled. She paused then, confused, as she realised she was wearing a rough, grey shirt over her nightdress. Jon’s shirt. It wasn’t the first time she’d woken up wearing something of his but … How was that even possible? She took it off, fingering the coarse material in awe holding it to her face and breathing in its scent. It smelt of Jon and everything she associated with that side of the door; smoke and oil and contentment. But how could any of that be real? What was it about that door?

A sudden memory hit her, unbidden. Of Viserys standing in front of the dark door next to her chambers, his palm resting on its dark wood.

“ _Go and play with Rhaenys. I need to practice.”_

Targaryen magic. Dragon magic. Her brother couldn’t do it - he had complained about that numerous times - but he had said that there were others who could or would in the future. Was that what she was doing? Was this dragon magic the ability to open a door and walk through to some other place hundreds of leagues away?

“Madness,” she mumbled, dressing in a plain, cream, silk gown before putting Jon’s shirt over the top. Then she turned back to the door of her chambers and steeled herself, starting to tremble as she recalled what had happened the previous night. “I can’t stay here and it’s no good putting it off. I have to see for myself.” Taking a deep breath she walked forward and pulled the door open.

“No ...”

Dany had so hoped she was wrong, but the sight that greeted her was all her worst fears come true. Four bodies lay strewn across the floor of the living room; her handmaid Shana - her pastel clothing now dark with blood - and three soldiers, eyes staring wide and unseeing. As much as she wanted to run, Dany steeled herself, moving from one man to the other, confirming that each wore Baratheon colours and that none were the young knight who had come to her rescue last night. It had been far too dark to see her saviour properly but she knew she’d recognise him if he were here. And what about those two Lannister soldiers she’d encountered in the corridor? She edged forward again, determined not to break down, nervously dashing back to pick up one of the Baratheon’s discarded swords, only to find it far too big and heavy to easily carry. Her gaze darted around the room, quickly landing on a dagger attached to the belt of one of the soldiers and so, wrinkling her nose in disgust at having to get so close to the bloodied dead body, she knelt down and removed it, grabbing it firmly in her hand as she edged back towards the door.

Two more bodies were lying face down close to the dark door but both had light hair and wore red and gold so she felt confident that her knight had survived these fights. Tears of relief stung her eyes. She didn’t even know the man but she hadn’t been able to admit to herself until that moment just how fearful she had been. How guilty she would feel if he had died for her.

She eyed the dark door greedily - the temptation to step through and walk away from all of this overwhelming - but she had to face this. She had to know what had happened.

“I am a Targaryen. I am a dragon and I shall not be afraid.”

But she _was_ afraid. She was terrified, but at least mumbling those last five words helped her a little as she walked down the corridor towards the next set of rooms, this door opening to more chaos and yet more dead bodies. A Targaryen guard, a handmaid and …

“No!” Dany ran towards the prone, dark haired figure, dressed in a familiar pale, silk nightshirt, dropping to her knees with a low cry. “Rhaenys,” she sobbed, shaking the young lady, despite knowing it was hopeless. Knowing her niece was dead. She looked up towards Aegon’s chambers then, her heart in her mouth. “I have to know,” she mumbled, walking forward just far enough to see a hint of silver hair on a body lying prone at an awkward angle across his bed, the brief sight enough to confirm her worst fears.

She turned sharply, tightening the grip on the dagger as she left the carnage behind. “I will not be afraid. I will not look back. I will not be afraid.”

There were more bodies. Fewer now, thankfully, and no further Baratheon or Lannisters, just numerous familiar servants and guards that she had grown up with. Each step forward was harder than the last but, just as Dany felt ready to collapse and give up, she head voices coming closer, forcing her into action. She moved quickly to the shadows then, pinning her back against the nearest wall as she debating what to do next. As they drew closer she made her decision, heading up the stairs to one of the towers, confident that it had been unoccupied and was unlikely to hold any shocks for her.

The small window in the uppermost room afforded her an excellent view of the beach and the sea beyond where she noted numerous ships, many now burning; dragon, stag and lion sails alike. Far below her, on the ground, enemy soldiers were bringing out bodies and turning them over – checking their identities most likely. She couldn’t go back to their apartment for a while then, as they’d be heading there to confirm the deaths of the heir and his sister. What they would not find though were either of Rhaegar’s siblings and Dany felt a quiet thrill of satisfaction at that. Perhaps they knew Viserys was in Essos right now and would assumed he’d taken his sister with him, which meant all she had to do now was wait for them to leave. Or perhaps her dark knight would return to take her away with him. She would honestly rather he did so than Viserys. Of course, she could also go back through to Jon, but experience told her that falling asleep there meant waking up back in her room and she dare not risk such a thing whilst the Usurper’s soldiers were still prowling around here.

She waited up in the tower all day; tired, hungry and heart-sick, weeping for her niece and nephew and all her valiant servants and guards who she had grown up with. Then, a little later, she began to think about Jon and everything she’d learnt about that part of her life. He was a Stark and her enemy but … he wasn’t. He had always been her friend, her perfect, kind, handsome friend. She gasped, her cheeks turning pink as she belatedly recalled their kiss up on the battlements, her fingers touching her lips at the memory. Not a dream? Had she actually been in Winterfell this morning as the sun rose, sharing a kiss with her best friend. _‘He’s a Stark,’_ she reminded herself, but was quite unable to think of anything but affection for him, despite that.

She shook her head, standing back up to check what was happening down below. Figures were still prowling around certain bodies and checking them, whilst others were being thrown on raging bonfires. Dany rubbed her eyes and slid back down the wall, hugging her knees close and trying to ignore the rumbling of her stomach.

When it finally grew dark she pulled herself up and steeled herself to head back down. Outside the pyres were still burning along with the smaller camp fires of those soldiers still remaining on the island. Dany had no idea how long they would stay for but she knew they would want to make absolutely certain there were no survivors here which meant she needed to be very careful. The most important thing now was food and water so she headed to the kitchen, pleased to find it empty of bodies; either alive or dead. The enemy would clear out the store rooms soon enough, she had no doubt about that, so it was vital she took as much as she could with her now; bread, cheese and other food that was easy to carry and slow to spoil. She made several nervous trips downstairs that night; collecting food, water, clothes, blankets and a few knives and placing them in caches in a number of secret places around the castle. She was terrified of falling asleep and being discovered, but dosed on and off throughout the night anyway, despite her best intentions. As dawn broke she moved back to the window to watch a few more bodies being added to the bonfires whilst a handful of ships began sailing away from the island.

The following night Dany dared to venture back to her apartments, relieved to find them now mercifully clear of bodies. Her room had been stripped of most of its precious items but she was able to grab a few personal things they had missed, including the head scarf she wore when visiting Winterfell. Her gaze was again drawn to the dark door but she shook her head, knowing she could not go back through until all the soldiers had gone. Putting another small cache of food, water and weapons in a cabinet, she covered her hair with the dark scarf and quietly headed to the area of the castle she knew had recently been searched, nervously waiting in a corner throughout the day, dagger held firmly in her hand.

She spent a few days and nights like this; moving from one quiet room to another, checking on the soldiers from the towers and prowling the castle at night to collect supplies. Finally, thankfully, the last of the soldiers left and Dany returned to the first tower to watch the ships sail away.

She remained on her guard during the next few days, not entirely convinced they had abandoned Dragonstone entirely, but at least she was now more relaxed about sleeping at night and using the daytime to explore and make plans on how to survive until someone came to fetch her.

Someone _would_ come, wouldn’t they? Viserys would return? Or Illyrio? How long could she survive here on her own? How long until someone came to claim this castle as their own? How would it be possible for her to keep a low profile with her hair loudly broadcasting her identity? Dye? She shook her head at the thought, knowing that Valyrian hair was notorious for being unable to hold such colouring and she had no idea where to look for such supplies here anyway. For now all she could do was wrap her hair up as tightly as possible, keep watching the sea, and then just wait it out and hope for the best.

~o~0~o~

Dany’s hoarded food quickly ran out and the little still remaining in the castle kitchens was soon too foul to eat. She would need water soon as well which either meant venturing outside to look for natural sources on the island or …?

Of course, now that the soldiers had left she had another option open to her. Another place she could find supplies. Now quite used to sleeping during the day, Dany waited until nightfall, wrapped herself up in the darkest clothes she could find, grabbed a sack and then pushed open the dark door to the other side, ignoring Jon’s chambers and instead heading down the cool, gloomy passageway and out into the stillness of the small courtyard.

With one last check of her scarf, knowing how visible her hair would be in such darkness, Dany used her knowledge of this place from years of casual games and headed cautiously towards the kitchens, shaking her head at her own folly for having taken so long to realise that this was a completely different place. A completely different castle. How could she have been so slow?

The storerooms weren’t guarded - she had to admit to being surprised at that - and so it was easy to sneak in, grab a couple a loaves of bread, a wheel of cheese, a leg of ham and a pitcher of milk before quietly heading back to her side of the door. As her confidence grew she hunted for other items during her night-time excursions; candles, clothes from this side to help her to blend in, a knife belt. She did not once contemplate visiting Jon, not only because it was night time, but also because she guessed he would either disapprove of what she was doing or would want to help – potentially getting himself into trouble in the process.

All was going well until one night when she realised a couple of guards had been posted around the stores and she hesitated for a moment, unsure how to get past them. That was until she heard Jon’s voice and her initial confusion as to why he was out here talking to a guard in the middle of the night, quickly turned to understanding as he lifted his head briefly and caught her eye. He knew. More than that, he seemed to be deliberately distracting the man so that she could sneak past. The temptation to wait for him in his chambers to thank him was especially great that time, but the close encounter had made her desperate to return to her side and, anyway, there was something about her friendship with Jon that was making her nervous; their kiss playing on her mind far more than she felt it should considering everything else that was going on at the moment.

_'And his eyes, his voice, the feel of his fingers against my cheek.'_ She shook her head as she pushed open the dark door to return home. 

~o~0~o~

She had put off the mystery of the door and Jon’s side of the castle for far too long, and so continued walking through Dragonstone until she reached the Chamber of the Painted Table, stalking to the far end and studying the large map table briefly before putting the sack down and rummaging inside for some food. She munched on some bread absent-mindedly, moving to the east of the map and looking at the part representing Dragonstone, before her gaze moved upwards towards Winterfell. She raised a finger then, drawing an imaginary line in the air linking the two. One step and a thousand leagues but …

She looked closer, trying to get a better sense of direction. She had always casually thought that the dark door lead to the north of the island and now realised she had been partially correct. The corridor actually headed north by north-west which meant it really _was_ pointing towards Winterfell. And so, she assumed, Jon’s side of the door would be pointing south by south-east towards Dragonstone.

And what of those other dark, streaked wooden doors in the ancient part of the castle? Was that the reason why the rooms were such odd shapes? She closed her eyes, trying to picture it all in her head. There was that door next to her bed-chambers, of course. The one she had once dreamt that Rheagar had shown her – the one Viserys was always standing in front of. It had always felt warm like Jon’s door, but her brother had told her it was locked.

“It points … a little more to the north,” she decided.

Unable to remember the exact layout, Dany headed back to her old chambers, grabbing a piece of parchment and starting to made some sketches, mapping every dark door she could find in the area. On the opposite side of the corridor were ones that pointed west and south-west whilst yet others headed north-west and south-east. As well as drawing them, Dany put her palm on each, only to find most felt as cold as stone.

In contrast, the one in the corridor was beautifully warm as usual, as if a fire was burning furiously on the other side, and the one next to her door felt similar, although perhaps slightly cooler. All the others were cold except … one other on the far wall of the living room which gave out a strange, familiar heat that wasn’t entirely welcoming, but did pull at her very insistently. She shook her head; still a bit confused and continued to take notes for a while before heading back to the Painted Table where she could start making some more educated guesses.

Yes, Jon’s door definitely pointed towards Winterfell, she had expected that, and the one next to her room pointed to a few possible places: Ramsgate, the Dreadfort, Last Heath or Castle Black and there was no way she could be confident enough about her calculations or the accuracy of this map to be certain.

Soon though a pattern started to emerge. One of the others seemed to point to King’s Landing another to Highgarden. Pyke, the Vale … Dany nodded. “The ruling castles in each of the old Seven Kingdoms,” she said to herself.

Which made her think that the other warm, northern door _would_ be pointing to Castle Black, because what other stronghold would be considered more important within the north itself? Had Aegon the Conqueror brought this magic over with him or had he discovered it already here? Was it the doors themselves that allowed for such abilities to be utilised or had they been created to control or assist some natural, ancient magic that had been here long before men had arrived on these shores? She had no way of knowing, of course. Not unless she asked her brother.

“ _The Dragon must have three heads as Rheagar is always reminding me when he visits. Three who have the ancient, Targaryen magic.”_

Dany yelped, convinced for a moment that Viserys was standing behind her, so loud was the memory of his voice. She hadn’t understood then but now it was beginning to make some sort of sense.

That third warm door was heading … east. Very slightly south-east. This map was only of Westeros but Dany knew her geography well enough. Pentos was where Illyrio lived and Viserys was almost certainly still with him. Would that solve the problem? Could she simply step through that door and be with her brother again?

But, no, she knew what happened when she stayed too long with Jon. Eventually she would fall asleep and wake up back in her own bed. She was actually here in Dragonstone and could only visit Winterfell and so it was likely to be the same for Pentos. She could perhaps go there and tell them though? Hop over and let Viserys know she was still alive?

The thought confused her; both exciting and yet terrifying. There was some comfort on being apart from her cruel brother but, ultimately, she was a young woman all alone on an island with no means of escape. She could not go and stay with Jon nor could she step over to Pentos and live there either.

“What about the other warm, northern door?” she wondered as she headed back to her chambers. “Where will that lead?”

It was daylight now though and Dany knew that it was best to try these things in the dark. She was curious, certainly but it could wait. Right now, what she really needed was a long and decent sleep. So, with one last look out of the various windows to be certain that no ships were heading back to the island, she made her way back down to her chambers and curled up on her bed, dagger clutched firmly in her hand.

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a phrase when writing AU in my last fandom - 'Dragging the plot kicking and screaming back to canon,' and, as some have already guessed from my comments about Act Two, that meant that certain characters' fates were rather inevitable. Sorry.
> 
> Dany's map is based on my own early sketches which allowed me to mention directions in the early chapters with a little more confidence. As she notes here, only three of the dark doors (double lines) are warm. I wonder if that now helps you to work out where the third one will lead and why she's always been able to visit Jon. 
> 
> For those of you who didn't see last weekend's news, I have now roughly written to the end of Act Two (chapter 12) which means I can guarantee regular, weekly updates until at least the 12th August. I'm fairly certain I have most of Act Three mapped out now too so, hopefully, that's another 6 weeks on top of that. Fingers crossed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Dany VI (Aged 13)**

**Dragonstone (Mostly)**

Despite having enough food to last her a few more days, Dany decided to prepare for her latest adventure by going through the Winterfell door and experiencing the more familiar trip with the new knowledge she had acquired. She started by placing her palm on the warm wood, taking note of how it felt and understanding now that there were emotions attached to this sensation as well as temperature: Kindness, strength and a strange sadness. She smiled, suddenly able to put a word to it.

“Jon.”

She began to push the door open, continuing to memorise the emotions as she did so, only to have it jolt against something blocking its path. Glancing down, she discovered a sack pushed up against the wall on the other side and, as she bent to move it out of the way, noticed parchment peeking out of the twine used to tie it. With a small, curious smile, Dany brought the bundle back to Dragonstone, unwrapping the scroll in her bed-chambers, her eyes stinging with tears as she read Jon’s note and realised how much trouble he must have gone to to collect all these supplies for her.

She quickly jotted a note of her own on one of her few remaining pieces of parchment, already covered on one side with her rough sketch of the doors. She would now definitely need fresh writing supplies so she could draw more plans and maps and would appreciate a little Milk of the Poppy for her occasional head and stomach aches too. Quickly adding a few more items that she hoped Jon would be able to grab without getting into trouble, Dany slipped back through and pushed the note under his door. Then she returned home, making sure she was thoroughly covered head to foot in her dark Winterfell garb, before standing in front of the door next to her chambers and placing her palm on it.

So, now it seemed that there were emotions connected to each door, apparently representing a specific person on the other side but, without knowing who this one was taking her to, she was unable to fully understand what she was sensing. Sadness again and kindness. Cold, slow and dark … but It still felt comforting in a way and Dany certainly didn’t feel afraid of it. Taking a big breath, she twisted the metal ring and pushed.

~o~0~o~

She stepped into an ancient, modest chamber, the only light emanating from glowing embers in a small hearth taking the edge of the unexpected coolness of this summer night. Cooler even than Winterfell, she realised, which perhaps confirmed that this _was_ Castle Black. Why though? Why would this particular door let her through?

“Who’s there?”

Dany jumped on hearing the soft, quavering male voice, turning to see someone sitting up in bed, ghost-white hair apparently confirming the man was elderly. She stood still, biting her lip and hoping that her dark clothing would make her invisible to him.

“Don’t let my blindness fool you,” the old man continued, “my other senses work well enough.” He tipped his head, smiling. “You have nothing to fear from me, I promise you. I assume you came through the old Dragon Door?”

She had no idea how to answer that question at first. Struggling to come to terms with both the idea and the new name. “Y-yes?” she replied eventually.

“Ah, so very young.” Even in the gloom she was able to see a bright smile light up the man’s face. “I wonder … Do I have the honour of meeting my great niece, Daenerys Targaryen?”

She gasped. “Ah … that is my name. Y-yes, Ser.”

“Maester, my dear. Once Prince Aemon Targaryen … a very long time ago. Here, why don’t you sit with me for a while and tell me what happened down on Dragonstone. I was so very afraid that all of my kin had perished when I heard the recent news.”

Dany smiled, moving forwards and sitting down on a chair next to the old man’s bed, happy to finally have someone to talk to about everything she had experienced.

~o~0~o~

On returning to Dragonstone, Dany quickly confirmed that none of the other doors would open; all feeling stone cold and refusing to yield to her. The only other warm one pointed towards Pentos, and the emotions Dany experienced when touching it seemed to confirm that she would find Viserys on the other side of it. Uncertain about reuniting with him right now, she took her cue from her recent communications with Jon and wrote a note in High Valyrian which she hoped would both help convince her brother that it was from her, whilst also preventing the message from being read by those who might be a threat to either of them.

> _Illyrio,_
> 
> _I am alive. I survived the Dragonstone attack by hiding. I have enough food for now. Please come for me if you are able._
> 
> _Daenerys_
> 
>  
> 
> _Viserys,_
> 
> _I used to believe that Rhaegar visited us. He called me his special little sister. The Dragon must have three heads._
> 
> _\- Dany_

She hoped her words to Viserys would convince him that it really was her and not some sort of elaborate trap to lure him to his death. Words that he was unlikely to have spoken to anyone else.

‘ _Three heads,’_ she mused as she stepped through the eastern door into the warm, sultry darkness of some pale stone undercroft in Pentos. _‘Three doors I’m able to walk though? Is that what it means? Uncle Aemon calls them Dragon Doors, after all.’_

With no knowledge of this building she worried about the trip itself and how she would know where to leave the note. Fortunately, the moment she stepped over the threshold, she became aware of the same pull she’d felt in Dragonstone still tugging at her here, quite obviously leading her towards Viserys. So, nervously, cautiously, she tiptoed through the pale, wide, moonlit corridors and into the room where her brother was sleeping, leaving the scroll on the silver platter by the door, and hoping that he would be the one to discover it in the morning.

~o~0~o~

Dany had made sure to regularly keep an eye on the passing ships, knowing full well that soldiers might be sent back here to check on the place or, even worse, have the island reclaimed for the Baratheon usurper or his allies. But, even at the height of the siege, Viserys had managed to sneak on and off a few times, mostly thanks to Illyrio or the other friends their family had in the east, so she assumed it would be easier still for someone to come for her now _if_ her message had been received.

She saw the Pentosi ship sailing north past the island late one evening, looking as if it were simply heading up to trade with the Vale or the north but, as the sun set, Dany realised that it had not moved much further on and was now starting to drift back south. Excitedly, she ran back to her chambers, collecting up her possessions - meagre as they were - ready to be rescued, before pausing, suddenly uncertain.

Was this really the best course for her to take? Did she really wanted to leave the place she’d lived in all her life? Tears stung her eyes as she wrestled with the dilemma but she had had this argument with herself so many times since the attack and now knew that this was the only logical choice. She couldn’t stay here on her own, not with the threat of being discovered becoming ever more likely, and she couldn’t escape though any of the Dragon Doors either, not without being dragged back here whenever she fell asleep. No, she _had_ to leave. She had to return to her brother, no matter how mean he had been to her before.

It was too dark to go out to greet her guest and didn't know which landing site he would be using anyway. All she could do was hover around the main entrance to the castle, keeping out of sight whilst making sure she had a perfect view of the door and could be certain who it was arriving.

“Magister Illyrio,” she said, the moment she recognised the man.

“My dear child,” he gasped as she stepped out from behind a large dragon carving. “I cannot believe it is true. We did not dare hope.”

“Are you … on your own?” she asked nervously.

“Other than my most trusted sailors, yes. We thought it best your brother remained safely in Essos. What of Aegon and Rhaenys?” She shook her head, tears stinging at the memory she had tried so hard to push to the back of her mind until that moment. “Oh, my poor child. Well, never fear, I am here now. I will just crave the hospitality of Dragonstone for the night if you don’t mind; I have brought us some food - because I cannot imagine you have much left - and then I would like some much needed sleep because I have travelled pretty much non-stop since I received your message. How did you manage to send it?”

“It wasn’t easy.” She ducked her head, knowing she’d have to think up some good excuse. “I will tell you more later but food first, yes.”

She would also have to try to explain how she had survived for all this time because, as skinny and unkempt as she currently was, she was certainly not close to starving with all the generous supplies Jon had provided for her.

After they’d eaten, Dany showed Illyrio to their old chambers, the only place she had bothered to keep neat and tidy, and offered him Viserys’ old chambers. Although part of her wanted to keep the man away from this precious, magical area, tonight’s plans meant she would need to be in her room if she overslept tomorrow morning and so it made sense that he was down here with her, even if she was very apprehensive about what she was going to do now.

She _had_ to though. She could not possibly leave Dragonstone without first saying goodbye to Jon.

~o~0~o~

Dany stepped out into the corridor wearing one of Jon’s old shirts over her thin nightdress and headed for the Dragon Door. In her hand she held a silver ring, now too small for all but her little finger, looped over a frayed piece of twine. Jon had gifted her so many precious items over the last couple of months - including a tiny wooden wolf and a beautiful dagger - and all she had given him in return were shells and shiny stones and she did not wish to leave in such debt. This ring would make up for that and would hopefully be small enough for him to keep hidden if he felt such jewellery might invite too many awkward questions.

It felt no cooler up here tonight than it had at home - the north obviously experiencing a genuine taste of summer - and Dany moved quickly to Jon’s door, pushing it open and tiptoeing towards his bed, smiling as she heard her friend’s gentle snores and made out his shape under a thin coverlet. She quickly removed the shirt, placed the ring on the table by the side of the bed and moved to light the candle before slipping into bed with him. Perhaps it was wrong to do this, to get into bed with a young man whilst she was wearing just a thin nightshirt and he was wearing no shirt at all but she was leaving tomorrow and had an urgent need to be close to him one last time. She sighed at how good it felt, the warmth of his back against her front as she snuggled up against him.

“W-what ….?”

“It’s just me, Jon.”

“Dany?”

He sat up quickly staring at her as she copied him, half embarrassed, half-amused by his reaction. Her gaze moved down to his naked chest, eyes widening at the sight. He had most certainly grown up since she had last seen him without a shirt and, seeing where his gaze was now falling, it was obvious that he had noticed her body had changed recently too.

“I had to see you tonight,” she explained, frowning slightly. “I had to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?”

She nodded, turning towards the table and picking up the ring. “This is for you. Payment for all your gifts.”

He took it automatically, turning it around so he could see the beautifully crafted silver dragon which had so often wound itself around her finger, his mouth dropping open in shock at the sight of such a unique gift. “The shells were payment enough I … I can’t take this.”

“Please. It’s too small for me now but I thought you could wear it as a necklace or just keep it … to remind you of me?”

He nodded, tying the twine around his neck so the ring nestled between his collarbones. “Where are you going?” he asked quietly.

“I’m ...” She paused remembering Jon was a Stark and an enemy of her family despite their very special friendship. “I probably shouldn’t say but I’m going to be with my brother.”

He glowered. “He wasn’t always kind to you.”

“I know but he is family. The only family I have left now.” Apart from Uncle Aemon at the Wall but that was too complicated to go into now. “And I can’t stay here … I mean … _there_ on my own.”

He chuckled at her correction. “I wish you could. I wish you could stay here with me.”

“So do I but, Jon, let’s not talk about that any more. We don’t have long left and I … I wish now I’d not avoided you recently. I wish I’d come here more often.”

“Why didn’t you? I kept hoping you’d come to talk to me and hand me your lists directly.”

She shrugged. “First I didn’t want to put you in danger, then I didn’t want to get you in trouble and also … after that last time there were … things that confused me.”

“The kiss?” he asked, biting his lip as he looked at her nervously through dark eyelashes.

She nodded, also shy. “We were friends and then suddenly … it felt as if there could be something more.”

“Aye.”

“But as real as I know you are, ‘this’ isn’t,” she continued. “Our families are sworn enemies and so we cannot even be friends. We shouldn’t even have met.”

He frowned. “I’m glad we did though.”

She smiled, reaching out to stroke his cheek with one hand, and he gasped at the contact, swallowing heavily. Then she ran her thumb across his upper lip, amused at what she felt there. “You growing a beard, Jon?”

“Not much of one,” he replied, pulling a face. “Robb keeps bragging about how he’s got more hair than me.”

“Ah,” she said, smiling as she moved her hand up to his head and slid her finger through his curls. “But not where it counts. There is no boy in Winterfell with better hair than you, after all.”

He laughed. “And no girl in the Seven Kingdoms with hair prettier than yours although ...” He frowned.

“Yes, I know. it’s a mess at the moment.” She shook away the memory of her dead handmaiden. “Had other things on my mind.”

He smiled gently, leaning over her to reach for a comb on the table by the bed. “Turn around then and let me try brushing it for you.”

She gave a contented sigh as he started, enjoying the sensation, even as he began to encounter a few knots. As he worked, she wriggled backwards until she could feel the warmth of his chest against her back, quite certain that Jon was deliberately allowing his fingers to brush her bare arms and shoulders as he stroked through the various, tangled strands. Her skin tingled and her stomach clenched with each gentle touch, as he eventuallly neglected her hair in favour of continuing his tentative exploration of her arms and Dany gasped as she felt his lips press against her shoulder, allowing her whole weight to drop back against his chest.

“This has to be a dream,” he mumbled.

“Ah, but how often have you thought that over the years?”

“Almost every day. Every morning when I wake up and realised that you couldn’t really have been here.”

“And now?”

He sighed happily. “ _Definitely_ a dream.”

She turned her head slightly to note his chin was now resting on her shoulder with his eyes looking downwards, and she followed his gaze to realise that, from his current angle, the curves of her small breasts would be quite visible to him down the front of her nightshirt.

“Do you like what you see?” she asked and he jumped back guiltily.

“Ah, sorry.”

“I don’t mind.” She turned towards him then, her own hand moving to stroke his bare chest. “I certainly like _this_.”

“Gods, Dany.” He gulped in a loud breath of air, closing his eyes as his hands dropped to his lap. “You’re going to make me embarrass myself here.”

She smiled, slyly. “It’s just a dream, remember? So there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” And she leant forwards to kiss him on the lips, noting with interest how similar it felt to the time up on the castle walls and yet … how completely different too.

Soon they were lying back down on the bed and sharing gentle kisses, with her fingers tracing his face and his stroking her arms. They said nothing, both desperately trying to commit the other to memory, with Dany wishing she could stay awake and stay here with Jon forever, even though she knew it was impossible.

As she grew bolder she moved her fingers lower to explore his chest and stomach and Jon also became more curious, his hands gently stroking the lines of her breasts through her nightdress, head tipped curiously as he watched her reaction to his gently touches - his fingers occasionally sliding tentatively under the thin material. He was right, she decided, this _was_ a dream come true. They continued to kiss and touch and explore even as their eyes grew heavy. No matter how exciting this was sleep would not be denied and so Dany reluctantly pulled away from Jon's lips and buried her head against his neck instead, trying to fight back the tears as he held her close, one hand resting gently on a breast as he kissed the top of her head.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” she said as her eyelids started to grow heavy. “Please don’t forget me.”

“I never could,” he replied, his voice soft and dark and distant as she drifted off to sleep. “And I never will. I promise.”

~o~0~o~

**Jon (Aged 14)**

**Winterfell (Mostly)**

“Dany?”

Jon was reaching out for her before he’d even opened his eyes, his heart sinking as his hand encountered nothing but bedding. He sat up and looked around his chambers, as if hoping she would still be here, even though he knew that the magic would have sent her home the moment she had fallen asleep. Last night though. He took a deep breath as the memories returned; of combing her hair, of stroking her bare skin and then kissing her. Of the taste of her lips and her neck, the delightful feel of her small breasts under his fingers and the touch of her hands as she explored his chest and ... lower.

He groaned, quickly sliding his trousers off his hips in order to find some relief, the usual morning tension even sharper today with all those interesting memories to fall back on. Far too real to have been a dream he decided, as he allowed himself to relive last night and then imagine that they had taken things even further, gasping out her name as he finished.

It was barely dawn but Jon was wide awake now, quickly dressing in shirt and trousers before stepping into the corridor, trying to judge the time and then glancing to his left, suddenly transfixed by the sight of the old door. It had been a long time since he had stepped through; initially because of not wanting to deal with Viserys and more recently because of the attack that Dany had talked about. Jon still found it best not to think too hard about how real all this may or may not be, mostly just accepting that it had some truth to it, much as he had when he had been very small.

But perhaps now he had all that extra knowledge and information?

With a quick look down the corridor and feeling more than a little reckless, Jon stepped up towards the door and placed his palm on its strange black and white streaked surface.

“Warm,” he mumbled. Far warmer than wood should be. Then he took hold of the metal ring and twisted it, the latch clicking loudly before he pushed the door open.

~o~0~o~

This castle seemed so different from the way he last remembered it. Cold and lifeless. Jon glanced at Dany’s door but decided not to go in there today; his current curiosity about exactly what this place was was now far too great, and he knew her chambers would not give him the answers he sought. So he continued walking down the long corridor, ignoring all its many doors, until he had stepped through that large arch and into the strangely shaped small chamber he remembered from before. Back then it had been a living, breathing castle and yet, at the time, Jon had still thought it was part of Winterfell - had desperately clung onto that idea until he had walked further on and the illusion had finally shattered.

But he was no longer that naive, young boy and now understood much of what he was about to see, even if he still did not yet have all the answers. The castle became lighter and airier as he walked, large towering windows revealing the gorgeous views that had sent him scurrying back home before. Jon climbed the large steps of one of them to look down properly, this time no longer scared at what he saw. The sea. He remembered visiting Torrhen’s square years ago and marvelling at the ‘ocean’ only to have Theon laugh at him and tell him it was a mere lake, before ranting on about his family and the Ironborn as if he were some sort of expert. As if he hadn’t been living the past few years in Winterfell far away from all of that. Then later they had all visited White Harbor and Jon had seen the sea for real. _This_ sea, he realised. The Narrow Sea.

He hopped back down and continued walking, apparently drawn by some unknown force, until he finally set foot outside, gasping as the air hit him, feeling so much warmer than where he’d been before. He continued walking down a long, stepped causeway, heading for a platform overlooking a spectacular sea scape with a bright sun in a brilliant blue sky and there, far below, he saw a single, small ship sailing away from him. Jon felt a strange twist in his stomach at the sight, a suddenly realisation that was both immensely satisfying and exceptionally sad.

“Goodbye, Dany,” he whispered, fingering the dragon ring still hanging around his neck. “Good luck.”

He continued to watch for a while and was about to turn back to the castle when he experienced the strangest sensation. An odd light-headedness followed by the feeling of being pulled backwards towards the castle, as if there were a rope tied around his waist and tugging at him. Jon blinked at the sight of the ship as it moved further away, the scene blurring slightly and causing him to shut his eyes tightly, and then it felt as if he really _had_ been yanked off his feet, and he yelped as everything tilted and he landed heavily in a patch of mud.

_Mud?_

“You all right, boy?”

“Huh?” Jon blinked his eyes open to find himself lying in a muddy puddle on a cool, overcast day with a large woman looking down at him, her hands firmly on her hips.

“You slip, boy?”

He scrambled to his feet, looking around, trying to work out what had just happened. “Ah, yes … I’m all right.” He took note of the various little cottages nearby and shook his head. ‘ _Wh_ _at_ _am I_ _doing_ _in Winter_ _T_ _own?’_ He forced a smile out, turning to the lady. “Thank you. I’ll be heading home now.”

She scoffed. “Take more care in future, young man.”

“Ah yes, thank you again.”

He started to stride confidently towards Winterfell’s east gate attempting to look calm whilst his mind raced. Wasn’t this the direction he’d been walking on the other side? Was that why he had ended up this far away from his chambers? Or perhaps he had been sleep-walking in his dreams?

“I hate magic,” he muttered. “Or dreams or … I hate magical dreams.”

“Jon?” Of all the people to encounter as he re-entered the castle, it would have to be his father.

“I, ah … couldn’t sleep,” he improvised quickly. He really hoped he wasn’t using that excuse too often as, the last thing he needed was for Maester Luwin to brew up some sleeping draught for him. “Thought I’d go for a walk.”

Ned looked at him suspiciously and Jon worked hard to hold his gaze as she realised that he would, yet again, have to rely on his general good behaviour and honest nature to get him out of trouble.

“Very well, but I would rather you stay within the castle grounds at this time of day unless you have been given a particular task to undertake outside?”

“Of course, Father. My feet just sort of … took me that way.” The truth, if you looked at it from a certain point of view.

“Very well, Jon.” He looked at him again. “Better get cleaned up before breakfast.”

He looked down at himself, now thoroughly covered in mud and pulled a face, nodded his agreement before scurrying back towards the First Keep, shaking his head in frustration.

And yet, despite the odd experience, he still headed straight back to the door; the view of that ship sailing away and the strange loss that had accompanied the sight making him certain that something of significance had just happened. He held his palm up a little way from the dark wood for some time, genuinely scared at what he would discover, despite knowing deep down that the door would feel cold and dead and would refuse to open when he pushed at it.

He kept trying on and off for several months afterwards, just in case, but the dark door never once opened and there were no further notes or shells left for him in his chambers.

“I am almost a man grown,” Jon told himself the very last time he attempted it. “There is no time now for childhood dreams and fantasies.”

And yet he never forgot his friend Dany. Never completely forgot the beautiful girl with the silver-blonde hair who he had played with and laughed with and kissed. Time blurred the memories and the years turned him sceptical again but, in the end, it would make little difference. Jon would go to the Wall with his uncle Benjen and Dany would sail to Pentos to be reunited with Viserys, and all that remained were some beautiful memories of a girl he had once known when he had been young.

~o~0~o~

**End of Act One**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so from here the story heads to show canon and then, next week, Act 2: Ruling Dragons begins during episode 7x01 with Jon back in Winterfell and Dany arriving at Dragonstone.
> 
> Dragonstone is the key, of course. With her not there the doors are unable to influence events.
> 
> The whole of that act is already roughly written and Act 3: Fighting Dragons is planned out so I'm currently on course to keep up with the weekly updates. This month will be crazily busy so I expect to lose a bit of my cushion but then I'm free all of August so should be able to catch back up.
> 
> Thank you for all your lovely comments and questions. Please keep them up and I'll continue to respond as best I can without giving away spoilers


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you've all been eagerly anticipating this, it seems. We've arrived at 7x01 assuming their canon story arcs are unchanged with Jon at Winterfell with Sansa and Dany just arriving at Dragonstone. And so ... now they're both home ... ? 
> 
> And so, yes, at this point the story is as canon as I could possibly make it taking the whole Door plot into account. Sorry in advance! 
> 
> The usual, enthusiastic thanks to [the-last-targaryens](https://the-last-targaryens.tumblr.com/) (justwandering-neverlost) for creating the lovely moodboard for this latest block of chapters.

###  **Act Two: Ruling Dragons**

**Jon VII**

**Winterfell (Set during 7x01)**

Jon strode back into Robb’s old chambers in the Great Keep - _his_ chambers now - with Cersei’s scroll still clutched tightly in his hand and his mind racing. Sansa was convinced that the Wall would hold and that they should be focusing on the south, whereas he was certain the queen wouldn’t be crazy enough to bring southern soldiers this far north during the winter. So, what was he to do now? Stay up here and continue to prepare for either or both attacks whilst also trying to survive the long winter? Put his foot down and insist that they only focus on the Night King? Or quieten his sister’s grumbles and split their meagre forces to cover both lines?

He dropped the scroll on his desk as he began to pace but quickly decided he would need to head back outside to do so properly. Perhaps he could go up to the wall walk as he used to as a boy, or head into the Godswood for some genuine peace and quiet?

“What would you do about all this, Father?” Jon wondered out loud as he headed purposefully down the spiral stairs. “How would you deal with all this dissent?”

He huffed out a laugh then, trying to imagine how surprised Ned Stark would have been to discover that it was his bastard son now ruling Winterfell. King in the North? Laughable really. And never mind Lord Eddard, what would Lady Catelyn have thought about all of this?

That thought quickly lead to memories of the rest of his family and of those he had grown up with here – most of them now long gone. Nothing had been heard of Bran or Arya for years and Jon had to assume they were both lost. Theon ..? He shook his head, not knowing what to think about the young man now after everything Sansa had told him recently. But his father and Catelyn, Robb and Rickon were all most definitely gone. Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, Poole and Jory too but ... this line of thought was definitely _not_ helping his brooding.

He was now striding quickly in the direction of the armoury, with a mind to head to the Godswood, when another memory intruded - of a small, pretty, silver-haired girl leaning against that very wall as she watched him spar with Robb.

“ _Do you want to play, Jon?”_

“Dany?” He stopped at the sudden recollection of his childhood friend although, in truth, he had never really forgotten her, often dwelling on the sound of her laugh as they had played as children or the feel and taste of her as he kissed her lips and explored her body when they’d been older.

“It wasn’t real. _She_ wasn’t real,” he said, more out of habit than anything else. “It just isn’t possible.”

And yet others had definitely seen her. Jon had talked to Robb about her when they were nearly men and Arya had spoken of her often when they were growing up. And his own memories? The touch of her lips as he kissed her up on the wall walk? The way her hair had tickled his face as she snuggled up against him in his small bed on that last night. How she had been the first girl to make him feel things that he had had no experience of up until that point. How could he possibly have invented all of that?

Jon had entered the First Keep before he had consciously thought about it, striding purposefully down the dusty corridor which lead to his old chambers. Fortunately, this ancient part of the castle had escaped the worst of the fires, being unoccupied at the time anyway, and Jon’s heart began to pound as the stepped onwards, quite certain he could hear Dany’s voice as she ran up and down, waving her arms.

“ _Look, look, Jon._ _I’m_ _Rhaenyra._ _I’m_ _a Dragon!”_

He reached the door to his old chambers, slightly darkened by smoke but otherwise intact, and had to push hard to open it, sighing at the familiar but neglected sight that greeted him. Next to him, Ghost pushed past his legs and started to sniff around and Jon jumped in surprise, having not even noticed the direwolf until that very moment.

“You remember this room, boy? What’s it been? Six years since we were last here?” He turned back then, looking at the even older door at the end of the corridor. The door he now knew had nothing but the curtain wall behind it. “And nine years since I imagined I stepped through _that_ one.”

He was standing in front of it before he had even realised, placing a gloved hand on the dark wood with a deep sigh. Just a childhood dream, surely. It hadn’t once opened to him since he’d found himself sitting in that muddy puddle in Winter Town and yet …

He was just been about to step away when he felt something through his glove, quickly removing it to place his bare palm back on the door and then sucking in a breath at the sensation. There was a warmth to the wood now. An insistent pull and a strange thrumming through his fingertips that he had not experienced in years. A whisper. A breath on the wind.

“What am I doing?” Jon wondered as he twisted the ancient mental loop and pushed, gasping as the door opened as easily as if it had been newly hung. Behind him, Ghost flattened his ears and whined and Jon turned back briefly to look at huge, usually fearless Direwolf, skulking backwards like a tiny pup.

“Not for you, eh? Can’t say that I blame you, really. Everything about this is weird. Always has been.”

Ghost took another couple of steps backwards, but Jon’s attention was now fully on the dark door. With a small shrug, he pushed it open a little further and stepped on through.

~o~0~o~

**Dragonstone**

The other side also appeared neglected, the dust and cobwebs making the slightly paler grey stone here seem even more obvious in hindsight. Jon moved the few steps forward to the first door on the left and gently pushed at it, blinking in surprise at the sight it revealed; both familiar and yet so very different from the way he remembered it.

It was now well known that there had been an attack on Dragonstone a little over nine years ago, and the state of these rooms seemed to lend some weight to that argument. Assuming all this was real, of course, and that he wasn’t actually asleep in his bed at the moment. Jon nervously pushed open the first door on the left, remembering that it had been Dany’s bed-chamber and shook his head at his own real fear at what he might find inside. Had he been in here before? He couldn’t recall at that moment but, in walking around the space curiously, he was at least able to confirm that it looked like the room of a young girl despite its current ruin and neglect.

As he headed back out towards the corridor Jon wondered at his current curiosity. Should he go back to his side or explore over here a little more? He thought that he could now confirm a few of his suspicions about this place, but wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know the truth of the matter. It had always been so much easier to think of this as some strange, magical dream, even though his adult side, now relatively experienced in the magic the realm held, suspected that it was considerably more complicated than that.

A sudden shout had him instantly spin around and adopt a fighting stance, his hand going automatically to his waist only to find no sword there. Soldiers were now running down the corridor towards him, wearing unfamiliar, dark uniforms with strange helms whilst shouting in some foreign tongue. Jon quickly took the measure of them and pulled a face, holding up his hands whilst taking a subtle step backwards towards the dark door.

“Sorry, just passing through,” he called out brightly, hoping he could get back through before the soldiers reached him.

They paused, long lances drawn. “Who you?” one asked in halting Common. “How you get here?”

“Well, it’s funny you should ask that ...” Jon forced out a smile whilst backing up another step and feeling for the metal loop behind him, instinctively pulling at it and feeling the door resist.

“You trapped,” the stern soldier remarked. “Door goes nowhere. Come with us to see queen.”

“Queen?” Jon asked, feeling the door move a little as he wiggled it. _‘I_ _definitely_ _pushed it to come here but, when I was young_ _er,_ _I_ _seem_ _to remember ..._ _’_

“Queen Daenerys Targaryen.”

The soldiers took a step forwards and Jon grabbed at the loop and pushed it instead, almost falling through the door in the process. He then quickly regained his footing and hastily scrambled to close it, whilst the soldiers stumbled forwards, a look of total shock on their previously stoic features.

Jon remained leaning on the door, breathing heavily and trying to resist the temptation to laugh. “I’m going mad,” he gasped. “I must be.”

~o~0~o~

**Dany VII**

**Dragonstone (Set between 7x01 & 7x02)**

“Shall we begin?”

“By all means,” Tyrion replied, still looking around the neglected Chamber of the Painted Table in awe. “Where though?”

Daenerys nodded down at the ornate map in front of her. “With this. It needs to be cleaned and the figures collected up. She picked up an old, broken Baratheon piece and scoffed. “And some new pieces made.” She threw the offending item back onto the map. “These ones can be recast for a start.”

“It certainly is very impressive,” the dwarf observed as his eyes roamed around the room again. “All of it.”

“Yes, although my memories of the place are … mixed.” She shook her head. “Speaking of which ... Greyworm, I need the Unsullied to check every corner of the castle and take note of anywhere that needs attention. Anything unpleasant from either of the previous occupations along with any urgent building work that may be required.”

“Yes, my Queen,” he said, leaving with a bow.

“And we should take a look at the accommodation now, I think?” she continued. “This place was a mess when I left, but I assume Stannis put the key areas back into some sort of order when he was here? Hopefully the chambers on the floors below us won’t require too much work, at least.”

She walked out and back into the dramatic throne room with Missandei, Tyrion and Varys in her wake, her gaze lingering only briefly on the impressive throne, before striding back through the doors at the far end. From there she lead her group through familiar corridors and spiral staircases towards the main royal chambers.

“I would be fascinated to see your old rooms,” Missandei said to her quietly.

“They weren’t here,” she replied promptly. “My brother wanted us … elsewhere.”

“Oh?” Tyrion asked.

She waved a hand, dismissing the question. “I’ll probably head over there a bit later, just for old times sake.  However, right now, sorting out our current accommodations is far more important.”

She wouldn’t think about that. She wouldn’t think about _any_ of that. _If I look back I am lost._

~o~0~o~

“My Queen.”

Daenerys looked up from her inspection of the royal chambers to see that Grey Worm had entered with another Unsullied by his side. “Yes, what is it?”

“This one has something strange to report,” Grey Worm replied, nodding to the other soldier.

“Very well.” She switched to Valyrian. “Tell me.”

“This one and three others came across an intruder,” the Unsullied told her. “One who was not recognised.”

“You captured him?”

“No, my queen, it was not possible. The man … the man walked through a door and ... disappeared.”

Dany gaped, trying hard to ignore the sudden flutter of excitement building up inside her. “Where was this?”

“I can show you.”

“Please do although, before that, describe this intruder if you would.”

“A young, adult male. Bearded.” He raised his hand to just above his shoulder. “This height. Dark hair and eyes but of _this_ land not ours.”

Dany’s heart started beating faster. _S_ _urely it couldn’t be …?_ “Show me.”

She was not at all surprised at the route the soldier started to take and her mind quickly drifting to the young boy she had once known; dark haired and always small for his age. _Bearded?_ She tried not to grin at the thought. How odd to think of him so.

“Here,” the Unsullied said. “This one heard a noise and the man was seen there … coming out of the room on the right.”

_My old chambers._

“Which door did he disappear through?” Daenerys asked, even though she now knew what the answer would be.

The soldier shook his head, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “It is impossible.”

“Say it anyway. I promise you will not be in trouble.”

“The one at the far end which does not open. Many here do not and that one … that one has a stone wall behind it.”

“But you saw it open?”

He nodded. “It opened and there was … mist and then … the man walked through and disappeared.” He looked up at her, wide-eyed. “It is witchcraft?”

“Perhaps,” she replied, still distracted. “Or perhaps the old tales of ghosts walking these ancient corridors have some truth to them after all. I thank you for your report.”

“We should place men here now?” Grey Worm asked her.

“I do not believe we need to guard against the dead.” She sighed. “We shall simply make sure this part of the castle is put out of bounds and the main entrance to it locked.”

“There is something you are not saying,” Grey worm continued in Common as they made their way back to the part of the castle they currently occupied.

“That is the area I grew up in,” she replied. “It does not surprise me in the least that it is haunted, considering how many once died here.”

Her commander didn’t look as if he was entirely satisfied with her response but she knew he would not push her further on the matter. Within the hour, the whole wing was closed off and Daenerys hoarded the key for herself. She would need to come back down here later when the rest of the castle was asleep.

~o~0~o~

Tiptoeing down these particular corridors in the dead of night held less than pleasant memories for the young queen, although it was considerably colder here now than when she had last done this during the height of summer. She quietly traced the well-known route, fingering the large key held safely in the pocket of the warm coat she wore over her nightdress, her long hair wrapped loosely in a tie and covered by a dark scarf. She winced as the key clicked in the newly locked door - the sound echoing rudely off the ancient, stone walls - but soon she was heading down the familiar, dusty corridor which lead to her old chambers, noticing with interest the fresh footprints showing from her soldiers’ earlier patrols.

She remembered wondering why Viserys would have picked this part of the castle to live in rather than the more modern chambers she currently occupied but, in hindsight, it was obvious. This was the oldest part, after all, and the only place where she had seen those old, dark doors streaked with strange, white lines. The Dragon Doors her great uncle had called them.

Her nerves increased as she headed single-mindedly towards the far end, remembering her explorations and the sketches she had made when she had been here alone, and how she had determined that this particular door had pointed north by north-west and the others to more key locations within Westeros and Essos.

She ran her hands over the wood, feeling the strange warmth and insistent pull that she knew heralded a successful trip through, nervously glancing over her shoulder, despite knowing that she was locked in here. The last time she had stepped through here had been the night before she had left for Essos. Had Jon tried to visit her here before today? Would he have been able to with her absent from the place? Well, there was only one way to find out.

With a deep breath, Daenerys grabbed the metal ring, twisted and then pushed the door open.

~o~0~o~

**Winterfell**

The first thing she noticed was the sudden drop in temperature, making the air on her side feel warm in comparison. Winter was here and she had just moved a thousand leagues farther north in one step. Hadn’t she? There was still so much she didn’t understand about all of this; having only vague memories of the rantings of her half-mad brother when she had been a young child and her own research and guess work just before she had left with Illyrio. After that she had tended to think of all of this as a dream; her adult self dismissing the memories as illogical, such magic impossible, even after she had survived the pyre which had birthed her dragons.

She pushed the Dragon Door closed behind her and turned to her right, frowning as she saw the dust on the floor, suddenly worried that he may not still be sleeping here. But there were new footsteps visible on the flagstone floor here too and the paler door had been left very slightly open; the glow of a candle inside making her feel suddenly light-headed with nerves. With rather more effort than had been needed the last time, she braced her feet against the flagstone floor and pushed the door open.

The figure inside stood slowly and Daenerys instinctively took a step back, not recognising the man at all at first. His hair was pulled back in a severe tie, a bulky, fur cloak draped around his shoulders, and the beard - although she was expecting it - made his features look so very different to the way she remembered. But then he stepped closer and smiled and she relaxed, suddenly seeing the young boy she had once played with shining through the dark, solemn features of the man in front of her.

“Hello, Dany.”

“Jon?” She took a step closer, leaning in, hunting for other things she recognised. The shape of his face, his eyebrows, his deep, dark eyes. “I hardly recognise you.”

“There’s no mistaking you,” he replied and she smiled brightly on hearing more of his voice – deeper now but, oh, so familiar - and the accent ... She had never appreciated what it was she was hearing from him and the others in this castle back then; far too familiar with the sounds as she was growing up to have considered them unusual. “Gods, how is it possible you’re even more beautiful than I remember?” He stepped closer still, closer than she allowed any save Missandei to venture, his hands moving quickly upwards to lower the scarf and reveal her hair and then shaking his head, as if not believing what he was seeing. “Queen Daenerys Targaryen I presume?”

She nodded. “You should really bow in my presence.” He gave her an incredulous look and she smirked. “Or bend the knee?”

He grunted. “I’ve missed you too, Dany.”

And then she was throwing her arms around his shoulders and pressing her face into the furs around his neck, savouring the feeling of being back in her best friend’s arms after all these years apart.

“I believe we have a few things to discuss,” she said eventually, her tone matter-of-fact, and she felt Jon laugh against her cheek before he pulled back to look at her intently - the expression on his face making her stomach flutter beautifully.

“We most certainly do. Here, I hoped you might come tonight so I’ve some food and drink as well as some furniture for us to sit on. Sorry, it’s not much. I don’t live in this part of the castle any more, you see.”

She nodded, carefully perching herself on the offered seat. “I don’t either.” He was looking at her with a soft smile on his lips, apparently amused about something. “What?”

“The way you’re sitting. The way you speak and hold yourself. Your looks may not have changed much but _you_ certainly have.”

She sighed. “A lot has happened since I last saw you, Jon and not all of it pleasant.”

He frowned. “Aye.”

She looked more closely at him too and nodded. “You’ve been in the wars too?” She ran a finger across her own eye and smiled slyly. “Shame your pretty face got marked.”

He rolled his eyes. “At least I don’t get called _that_ as much any more, and, as you said, a lot has happened since we were last here.”

“I think perhaps those scars suit you though, as does the beard.” She frowned. “Not sure about the hair though. Somehow it just doesn’t seem like you when it’s all pulled back like that.” He shook his head gently before reaching up to release the tie and she smiled as his dark curls dropped down around his face. “Ah, there you are,” she said, smirking.

“Your hair’s grown a bit,” he commented, rolling his eyes at her teasing and she pulled her own tie forwards so he could see just how long it was, loving the way his eyes widened at the sight. “ _Really_ grown. Not sure I fancy trying to comb that now.”

She smiled at the memory. “It gets braided during the day. Takes a very long time but it’s definitely worth it. I ...” She shook her head, “No, it’s going to take ages to talk about everything that’s happened to us during the last nine years, even given the news of each other’s families that we may have gleaned over the years. Tonight though we need to talk about this … about the Dragon Door and how … _why_ I have just managed to step from Dragonstone to Winterfell in a single heartbeat.” She tipped her head. “This _is_ Winterfell, right?”

He chuckled. “Aye. How odd that it never once came up in conversation. That we never once asked the other why they were living in our castle.”

“We had other things on our mind most of the time. When I was here I just wanted to play, not talk and then, I seem to recall, when we _did_ start to suspect, we decided not to question it too vigorously.”

Jon nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I seem to remember it being given to me as an order, in fact.”

She rolled her eyes. “Hardly.”

He smiled. “So, do you have answers to any of your questions?”

“Some. My brother often talked about the old dragon magic when I was small, although he gave precious few details, not believing a girl capable of such a thing.” Jon scoffed and she laughed. “Well, yes, you met him, after all.”

He frowned. “What happened to Viserys?”

“He died.” She saw Jon’s curious expression and shrugged. “Story for another time. Anyway, I remember now that he was often standing in front of doors and ...” She laughed lightly. “I never made the connection until a lot later but we have a number of those Dragon Doors on the other side and I would often see him standing in front of one of them with his palm on the wood, concentrating.”

Jon nodded. “Trying to get through?”

“I don’t think he ever managed it though, despite the instructions he got from ... Rhaegar.”

Jon frowned. “You used to speak of your older brother fondly, as if you remembered him but ...?”

She nodded. “I swear he used to visit us when I was younger. For years I believed Rhaegar was alive and off travelling and would long for his return. It was quite a bit later that I became aware of the histories and discovered that he had actually died at the Trident shortly before I was born.” She shook her head. “In the end those memories were like my visits here. They made no sense but always felt so real at the time.”

“It’s still hard for me to wrap my head around,” Jon admitted. “I’ve been hearing all these tales about Queen Daenerys recently and part of me always wondered if she were _my_ Dany but … well, I just tried not to think about it most of the time because it was impossible for me to get any answers.” He frowned. “Do you really have dragons?”

She smiled broadly. “I have three of them. My children. I hope you can meet them one day.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “That would certainly be something.”

“But, Jon, here’s the thing. This magic? It’s _Targaryen_ magic, which means you shouldn’t be able to step through these doors at all.”

He frowned. “I do have … something though. I mean, the old magic runs deep in the Stark blood too and there’s the skill of warging which … I might have, as well as all the dreams and nightmares I experience. True dreams, I often think.”

“I have those too,” Dany said before frowning. “Warging?”

“The ability to get inside an animal’s head and see through their eyes. I can’t do it as well as some, but I do feel at times that I have a connection with Ghost … my direwolf. That I dream of _being_ him sometimes.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “You have a direwolf?”

“Aye, an albino. All Eddard’s children had one, although I’m not sure if any of the others survive now.”

“I’ve heard stories about them during the War of the Five Kings,” she said, “But I thought they were tall tales.”

Jon smiled, tipping his head. “Like a young queen with three dragons you mean?”

She laughed. “Exactly.”

He nodded, “And I’ve seen giants and mammoths and ...” He swallowed and then looked up, holding her gaze with something like a challenge in his eyes. “White Walkers.”

She looked at him wide-eyed before suddenly groaning. “So much to discuss and yet ...” She yawned.

“Aye, we should probably get some sleep.”

She shook her head. “If I fall asleep here I’ll end up back home and I don’t want to leave just yet.” All the same, she headed straight for the makeshift bed of furs he had created here. “This does look comfortable though.”

“Ah … perhaps you _should_ go back, I mean … do you know where you’ll end up if you do fall asleep?”

“Back in my old chambers, seeing it’s actually … here.” Dany moved over to the furs, shifting them slightly until they were where she remembered his old bed being, before sitting down on top of them.

“What do you mean, ‘here’?” Jon asked, undoing his cloak and coming to sit next to her.

“If you map it out ... if you draw where this room is in relation to the Dragon Door and then think about where my chambers are you’ll notice they’re sort of … on top of each other? Which means that when we fell asleep in one bed we will always wake up in the other.”

He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ll sketch it out for you some time. Come, Jon, I’ve missed this.”

“We’re … not children any more,” he said nervously, but he still lay down next to her, wrapping the furs and his cloak over them to keep out the worst of the chill.

“I seem to recall we weren’t children the last time,” she said, snuggling up against his chest. “Certainly the games we started playing then were a bit more … interesting ... then running down the corridor and flapping our arms.”

He laughed. “I remember.”

“Hmm,” she ran her hand across his chest, wishing it weren’t so cold and that he was wearing as little as he had been back then. “I admit to being curious to see how else you’ve changed, Jon.”

“You’re torturing me here, woman.”

She smirked, pleased at the admission. “Am I? Aren’t you ‘comfortable’?”

“If you mean what I _think_ you mean then … no, I’m not.”

She wriggled a bit, feeling her stomach clench and the start of a pleasant itch between her legs. “Me neither, but then I never did have much of a chance to come to terms with the way my feelings for you were changing back then.”

“I missed you so much, Dany.”

“I missed you too.” She sighed, her eyes growing heavy. “I don’t want to fall asleep.”

“I know but … I’m staying in Winterfell for a little while yet. We can meet up again soon.”

“Good. We have so much to catch up on.”

“Aye.”

She had no intention of sleeping and was fairly certain that the excitement of being back with her friend would be enough to keep her awake but, perhaps there was something about the magic here that made her more sleepy because, just as had happened as a child, Daenerys had barely closed her eyes before she fell quickly asleep, opening her eyes some later to find herself lying so close to the edge of her old childhood bed back in Dragonstone that she almost fell off.

“Need to move Jon’s furs a little further to the left,” she mumbled as got up, sleepily making her way back along the corridor and then returning to her new bed-chambers.

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * A few days ago I saw this wonderful cartoon by [biorn21](https://biorn21.tumblr.com/post/175302797482/shall-we-begin-daenerys-targaryen-came-home) and laughed so hard at how perfect it was for the first part of Dany's pov here.
>   * I had planned to draw a neater map for some time and decided to put this one up here now in case Dany's comment here about her and Jon's chambers being 'on top of each other' wasn't obvious.
>   * Very early on, before I started publishing, I was reading through the first chapter and noticed an 'error' where Jon pushed the Door to get through and then also pushed it on the way back. Then I decided that would be part of the magic of the Doors and kept it in.  I kept expecting someone to pick up on it but no-one did.  Spoilsports!  
>   * I know so many of you have been waiting for more Rhaegar and assumed that he was still alive.  Sorry about that but I know quite a few of you have worked out what that's all about and that the nature of this fic means that it's not quite the end of his story.  
>   * I've updated the tags, adding a few key character names for Act 2
> 

> 
> Any questions about these please ask and ... any questions at all really.  Yeah, this is complex and crazy, but I do (mostly) know where I'm going with it - at least for the next two acts.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### I would like to dedicate this chapter to our fandom's beloved [allegre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allegre/pseuds/allegre) and sent virtual healing vibes across the world to her. Wake up soon, sleeping beauty.
> 
> A few of you pointed out that Jon forgot to mention a couple of things during their first meeting including one especially pertinent point about his status. Neither of them really talked last time so it's now vital that they not get distracted when they next meet? Do you hear that Jon and Dany. Don’t get distra- … oh, never mind. 

**Dany VIII**

**Dragonstone (7x02)**

There was so much to organise now Daenerys had arrived back at Dragonstone, but she was determined to find time to meet up with Jon, both to catch up with his news as well as work through more of the Dragon Door mystery. So, she decided to let Missandei in on at least part of the secret by showing her her childhood room as promised and asking for the suite to be cleaned and set up as her little sanctuary. Missandei looked at her quizzically - almost certainly suspecting she wasn’t being entirely truthful - but Daenerys knew her advisor would honour her promise to keep it a secret, only going to fetch her if it was an absolute emergency and the queen could not be found elsewhere.

By the third day back on the island, she put her new routine into practice - eating fairly early with her advisors before retiring to her room for a bath and then dismissing Missandei promptly with the excuse of needing an early night. Once alone, Daenerys got back up out of bed, threw a long cloak on over her night dress and headed downstairs to her old chambers, nervously awaiting Jon whilst standing next to the roaring fire that had been set in the stone hearth in the living room area.

“You’re here, good,” Jon said as he strode in from the corridor.

“Yes, I’m sorry about yesterday,” she replied. “We have only just arrived back here, as I said, and there’s still just so much to arrange.”

He nodded, the stern, dark man now fully returned. She had caught a glimpse of the old Jon under all of that the other night, but knew it would take her a while to get used to this version. Somehow his childhood brooding had always seemed a lot less intense.

“I understand. It’s much the same in Winterfell.”

“Oh, right that’s ... good?” she replied and he just nodded, frowning again. She really wished he wouldn’t. “Bad day?” she asked, edging closer.

He blinked then, as if surprised to find her standing in front of him “There’s just so much going on now, Dany. So much to worry about. I want to tell you about it all but … I’m not even sure where to begin.”

“I know.” She moved closer still and he finally got the hint, pulling her back into his arms. She sighed loudly. “But somehow nothing ever seems as bad when we’re in this position.”

“Dany ...”

She smiled on hearing the edge in his voice. The same tone he had used when they’d been lying on his makeshift bed the other night. She didn’t reply though, simply burying her face deeper into the furs around his neck as he rested his chin on the top of her head, smiling as she got used to this new height difference. He was now relatively taller than when they’d last met but, all the same, Daenerys had spent most of her life surrounded by men who towered above her and so there was something beautifully comforting about Jon being fairly close to her height. She really wanted to tell him that but refrained, remembering how sensitive he had always been about it.

“You’ve cleaned up, I see?” he said then.

“Yes, I’ve cordoned this area off and only one trusted advisor knows about it. Well, her and a few of my Unsullied but they are not the type of soldiers to gossip.”

“The ones I met?”

“Met?” She smiled. “Yes. That must of given you a fright.”

She felt him shrug. “I was a bit surprised. Honestly, I’ve confronted soldiers that were considerably more terrifying.” She was tempted to scoff at that but had the strangest feeling that he was telling the absolute truth. “I’ve done much the same in Winterfell,” he continued. “Locked up the First Keep and asked one trusted man to help get my old chambers back into shape.”

“That’s good. I want to meet up with you just as often as possible. I want to know of all your adventures, Jon as well as try and work out exactly what is going on here.”

“Aye.” He sighed. “This still feels like a dream sometimes.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I did so often believe that you were just someone I’d made up.”

He chuckled. “Why would you make up someone like me?”

She smiled, amused by his genuine surprise, leaning away from him and resting a hand on his cheek. “Why would a young girl _not_ invent such a handsome, kind friend for herself?”

He shook his head as if not willing to accept the compliment. “I thought I’d dreamt you too,” he admitted. “My beautiful, perfect Targaryen princess; a strange mix of the tales I’d heard from Old Nan and the reports of King Robert’s attacks on Dragonstone.”

“Hardly perfect.” She frowned. “If you knew some of the things I’ve done ...”

He nodded. “That goes both ways. It’s been a rough road for both of us, I think.”

The way he was looking at her now, with eyes so dark and intense, was sending a quiet thrill through her body and making her forget all about the questions she wanted to ask him. It was as if he were somehow drawing her closer - pulling her by an invisible thread - and she was quite unable to resist, moving quickly to untie his hair and using that as an excuse to push her body firmly up against his.

“Jon,” she whispered, her eyes now on his lips, and he started to lean in towards her before suddenly pausing, shaking his head.

“No, Dany we need to talk about this.”

“About what?”

“About us and the realities of starting something like this when we don’t fully understand what’s going on.” And yet, despite his words he didn’t pull away, now looking at her with something akin to adoration as his hand came up to stroke her face.

She smirked. “Starting something like what, Jon?”

He glared at her, belatedly realising she was teasing him. “Dany, I’m serious. What happens if we have this sort of relationships via the Door? I mean ...” He bit his lip. “Would it be possible for you to get pregnant when we’re actually a thousand leagues apart?”

She gaped at him, both shocked and amused by the comment. “It’s … certainly a very interesting question,” she replied, “but, also completely irrelevant.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because … because I can’t have children.”

Another small frown and a flash of emotion across his face, and Daenerys realised she had no idea of Jon’s thoughts on the matter. “I’m sorry. What happened?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I lost a baby and was then ... cursed by blood magic.” He gave her a sceptical look. “You doubt that? After all this?”

“It’s not that, not really.” He shook his head. “It’s just unexpected and ... I’m sorry ... that upsets you I can tell.”

She shook her head, not sure how to react to him obviously reading her so well. “I have my dragons. _They’re_ my children now.”

He nodded, eyes now cast downwards. “But that’s not all we need to talk about if we … take this any further.” He moved his hand from her face to his. “These aren’t my only scars, you see.”

She frowned. “Oh?”

He nodded, taking a step back from her, biting his lip as if uncertain about continuing, before walking closer to the fire, quickly removing the cloak from around his shoulders and then taking off his shirt.

The first thing Dany noticed was the small, silver dragon ring hanging around Jon’s neck on a piece of dark leather, but her gaze was quickly drawn downwards to the numerous, vicious, red marks decorating his torso. The sight made her both sad and angry but, even then, part of her was distracted by what else had just been revealed; the well-developed muscles on his shoulders, arms and abdomen hinting at a well trained warrior and tempting her to move closer.

“What happened?” she asked, gently, her gaze still on the one large scare that curved around his heart. _Over his heart?_

He shook his head, shivering a little and moving to put his shirt back on. “I was attacked but … I’m not sure if I’m ready to talk about all of it yet.”

She nodded taking a step forward as he put his shirt back on and wrapping her arms back around him, determined to give him whatever comfort he needed, even if that did just mean cuddling. His arms tightened around her in turn, his head resting on the top of her head again and she felt him let out a deep sigh.

“It’s fine,” she reassured him, “and, you’re probably right about taking it slowly. We do have a lot to discuss after all. It’s just … you’ve always been so very special to me, even if I had no idea if you were real or just a dream. Let’s move next door, Jon. I promise I won’t tease.”

He made a noise which sounded halfway between a laugh and a sob. “I don’t think you realise the effect you have on me, Dany, even when you’re not trying.”

She smirked at that, leading him by the hand towards her old childhood room. “I think I would be offended if I _didn’t_ have that effect on you. And I think I would be offended if it were any other man who had turned down what I just offered you.”

“Huh.” He was turning his head away from her now, she noticed. “You really have changed, Dany.”

“One day, very soon, I hope to show you just how much.”

“No teasing, you said.” But he still lay down on her old bed with her, allowing her to wrap a cover around them and, this time, it was Dany who gathered Jon up against _her_ shoulder, using the position as an excuse to run her fingers through his hair and enjoying the way he sighed in her arms at the attention she was giving him.

“That feels … good ...” he mumbled sleepily.

“I have missed you so much, Jon.”

However, despite her mounting desire for him and her wish to share more of their news, tiredness was pulling at her yet again, and it wasn’t long before she fell asleep, half waking up some time later to find herself all alone in her childhood bed, before quickly falling back down into the darkness.

~o~0~o~

**Jon VIII**

Jon woke up with a gasp back in Winterfell, sitting up in the dark and trying to get his bearings.

“Dany?”

He had been with her in her bed in Dragonstone, had fallen asleep and then woken up here. Unless of course he’d been here all along and ...

He growled, annoyed that he was already starting to question it again. _‘_ Had he dreamt the visit? Had he dreamt her?’ How many damn times would he keep doubting all of this? Right now though, feeling cold, disorientated and highly frustrated, Jon didn’t give his next move a second thought, jumping out of bed and then gasping at the sudden cold as he realised his cloak was still at Dragonstone. Items always remained where you left them - he remembered that now - which meant he would need to be a lot better organised if he were to keep moving back and forth between the two places.

He headed out into the corridor and straight back through to the other side, struggling to think of anything other than Dany and his desire to be close to her again. First though he retrieved his cloak from the main living room before opening the door - the Dragon Door she had called it - and throwing it over to his side to pick up later. Then, trying really hard not to think about his decision too much, he pushed open the door to Dany’s small bedchamber and walked back inside.

“Jon?” He could just about see the outline of her pale hair and nightdress as she sat up, and his heart rate picked up again as he moved towards her.

“I fell asleep and then ...” Jon sat on the edge of her bed, moving one hand up to gently cup her cheek. “… and then I realised I missed you so much already.”

“Jon …” she breathed.

“This is madness. All of it but, right now, I just can’t bring myself to care.” And he dipped his head forwards, forcing himself to move slowly until his lips brushed lightly against hers; warm and soft and so tempting.

The little groan Dany gave then was nearly his undoing, but he was determined to go slowly and give them both a chance to decide what they really wanted here. So he teased her - and himself in turn - by only gently touching his lips against hers, and she returned the compliment, apparently enjoying the anticipation just as much as he was. He felt the tip of her tongue skirt across his lower lip then, just a hint of it tasting him, and took a deep breath, trying to distance himself from all the amazing sensations - trying not to give into the temptation - but, gods, she was just so warm and tasted so, so good.

This time he was the one to groan, the sound apparently prompting her to move, placing her hands back on his head and gently running her fingers through his hair, whilst she pulled herself closer to deepen the kiss. Jon rested his hands on her shoulders, briefly debating pushing her away and continuing their earlier conversation, but the feel of her skin under his fingers distracted him and he instead started to stroke and caress her, leaning forward on her bed as their light, slow kisses gradually became faster and more frantic, and all logical thoughts fled from his mind.

Dany’s hands started teasing under the hem of his shirt, her fingers lightly tracing his abdomen and making him shudder, whilst his began to play with the straps of her nightdress, itching to lower them and undress her. He remembered their last encounter then; of how beautiful her breasts had looked under her thin, summer nightdress and how they had felt under his fingers, and was suddenly desperate to see exactly how her body had changed during the last nine years.

“Off,” she mumbled, her hands still caressing under his shirt and making him gasp. Apparently she was keen to make some comparisons of her own.

His shirt was soon on the floor, although he had no idea who had removed it in the end but, despite the internal warmth this kiss was generating, it was far too cold here in the dead of night to be this exposed and so Jon was back up on Dany’s bed in a flash, quickly lowering the straps of her nightdress as he pushed her down onto her back until it was pooled around her waist. Then he quickly slid under the covers and dropped his head down to her chest, kissing blindly until his lips discovered a nipple - latching on and suckling - whilst his hands gently caressed her breasts and compared their feel and size to the previous time. Gods, this was a dream come true.

Dany was wriggling under him now, gasping his name, her hands still in his hair and tugging hard, although the slight pain of that only seemed to fuel his pleasure. Her breasts tasted just as good as her lips had and now he wanted even more. He wanted to sample every inch of her - to feast on her - so he moved even lower under the covers, his fingers collecting the bunched up nightdress at her hips and sliding it further down, his lips following in its wake and worshipping each new piece of bare skin that was revealed. Oh, if only it was a little warmer in here so that he could see her as well as taste her.

“Jon, come up here,” she ordered. “I need to kiss you. I need you inside me.”

“Patience,” he mumbled, not sure she could even hear him under all these covers. “Relax.”

Her giggle confirmed that she definitely had. “Relax, he says.”

“Ssh.”

He slid her nightdress off her feet and dropped it onto the floor at the foot of the bed, smirking at the realisation that he now had her naked and beautifully at his mercy. He still hadn’t learnt much about the adult version of Dany but what little he had seen and heard made him realise that she was very much used to being in charge and in control. Right now, with his inhibitions muted by desire, Jon was looking forward to seeing if he could make the famed Dragon Queen submit to _him_ for a change. It only took a gentle stroke of her inner thighs to have her open her legs and he quickly accepted the invitation before she could second guess herself, pressing his lips against her folds and sliding his tongue into her wet warmth.

Her cry of his name had him smirking, conceit warring with surprise at just how susceptible she was to his touch. Gods, she felt amazing.

“Jon, please, I’m ready for you.”

He chuckled, pulling away just enough to respond, “Oh, I can taste exactly how ready you are, Dany, but I’m in no hurry here.”

“I need … I need … Please!”

He smiled before returning to his task, using his fingers now as well as his tongue, determined to push her over the edge quickly before she lost patience with him. The strength of her release was still a surprise though, the way she gasped out his name as she shuddered under him, her enthusiastic reaction making him struggle not to join her, despite still being half dressed. He belatedly moved up the bed then, lighting a candle on the side table before lying down next to her, now desperate to see her face after what he had just done to her.

“You are infuriating,” she said, her eyes dark, her lips slightly parted.

“What?” Jon asked innocently. “You didn’t enjoy that?”

The smallest twitch of her lips betrayed her true feelings. “I am not used to being disobeyed.”

“Aye, I noticed that already. Do I dare ask what the usual punishment is for such a crime?”

She shook her head, still fighting a smile. “Oh, you are most definitely not going to get the _usual_ punishment, Jon.”

“But …?” he asked, smirking.

She pounced then, ducking her head under the covers and kissing at his abdomen, whilst her fingers quickly worked the ties of his trousers. He had thought that the game he had just played was the perfect solution to his dilemma - his old insecurities about fathering a bastard child still haunting him, despite all that had happened in his life recently. Even given Dany’s reassurances about her personal situation and the strange magic involved in this encounter, Jon still considered attempting to resist her advances to take him inside of her but, the moment his trousers reached his hips and one small, warm hand had firmly grasped his cock, he knew he stood no chance of denying her.

He was just about to turn her over when she moved again, straddling him whilst his trousers were still around his knees, taking him back in hand and then sinking down hard with a gasp, her head falling back as the whole of his length was quickly enveloped into her perfect warmth. The candlelight flickered off her naked skin and her silver hair and Jon was suddenly overcome with emotions, biting his lip in an effort not to finish there and then. What a sight she made. His beautiful Targaryen queen riding him expertly - rolling her hips, raising then lowering - before opening her eyes to watch him intently as she figured out exactly which moves were having the most effect on him.

Jon placed his left hand on one of her gorgeous breasts, savouring his first experience of seeing her naked, whilst moving his right back between her legs, knowing he wouldn’t last much longer and hoping he could bring her along with him.

She half-heartedly tried to move his hand away. “Your turn now,” she gasped, but he just shook his head and continued to caress her with both hands, savouring every sensation and committing as much of the sight, sound and feel of her as he could to memory.

He had planned to turn them over just before the end, thinking he would need her under him in order to properly release, but a clever roll of her hips, accompanied by a tight squeeze of her muscles around him, caught him by surprise and he moved both hands quickly to her hips, grabbing hard as he spilled inside her, whilst she writhed above him and cried out his name.

“Dany ...” He opened his eyes to see her still on top of him, head tipped back, breasts gleaming with sweat as she gulped in breaths of air. “... Gods you are so beautiful.”

She opened her eyes slowly, lowering her head slightly to look at him, surprisingly shy considering the way she had just been riding him. “So are you, my pretty wolf.” He shook his head at her in warning and she smiled. “And hungry in bed too, apparently. Who would have guessed?”

“And you an expert rider?” he teased.

“A Dothraki horse rider and a Targaryen dragon rider,” she replied. “Now I can add wolf to that list.”

He sat up, holding her close, still inside her for the time being, kissing her hard on the lips. “You most certainly can. And what a ride it was.”

The cold had started to bite again so the pair reluctantly moved, Dany rolling off of him with a deep sigh and barely allowing him to shuffle back into his trousers before she snuggled up against his bare shoulder. Jon briefly debated getting up to retrieve his shirt from the floor but realised that he was now just too comfortably sated to move. He had others in his room on the other side, after all, and so could afford to leave this one here when he inevitably fell asleep again. Next to him, Dany wriggled even closer, gently kissing his shoulder whilst stroking her old ring now hanging around his neck - the action quite obviously possessive - and he allowed one finger to trail lazily down her bare back as he kissed the top of her head, smiling at the contented sounds she was making as she buried herself against his neck.

“Well this is going to make it far harder to stay away from you now,” she said.

“Why would you want to stay away from me?” he teased.

“Because you’re a distraction, Jon. A lovely distraction but ...”

“Aye. I feel the same way.”

“I could try to visit you on your side tomorrow?”

“How easy will that be for you? I honestly don’t mind coming here, Dany. It’s certainly a lot warmer.”

She shuddered. “Warmer is relative compared to what I sailed away from.”

“I’m sure, but this is positively balmy compared to what I’ve been experiencing for the last several years.”

“I want to know everything,” she said but her voice sounded so exceptionally sleepy and Jon realised that he too was struggling to keep his eyes open.

“I just wish I could fall asleep with you in my arms and wake again to find you’re still with me,” he said.

She sighed. “Yes.” Her breathing started to slow but Jon forced himself to stay awake, watching her, gently stroking her face, trying desperately not to fall asleep just yet.

“It’s a quiet evening for me tomorrow,” he continued. “So I’ll come over a little earlier. Perhaps give us a chance to talk for a bit?”

“I do have a few meetings planned tomorrow but, yes, I’ll see how soon I can get away.” She turned and lifted her head so she could kiss him gently on the lips. “I honestly think that, now I’ve had you, I’m not going to want to stay away.”

He smiled at her. “We really do need to talk.”

“I know but ….” She yawned. “Earlier, yes and I’ll see if I can take a nap at some point during the day so that I can stay awake a bit longer.”

“I wish I didn’t have to sleep at all,” he said soon after. “I just want to stay here with you for as long as possible.”

She had already fallen asleep by then but, perhaps the gods heard Jon’s wish because, just as he felt he was about to lose the fight, a flash of lightning lit up the room, followed several heartbeats later by a loud rumble of thunder. Still snuggled close against his shoulder, Dany stirred and murmured in her sleep, half-aware of the sound but obviously far too exhausted to wake from her slumber. At least this storm gave him the chance to watch her whilst she slept, seeing as how she was in the correct place, unlike him. Jon shook his head, battling with the warring desires of sleep and of remaining by her side but, even with the storm slowly building outside, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay awake for very much longer.

He lay there in the dark, waiting for the next flash, when it felt for a moment as if the whole bed dropped as everything around him seemed to shift and the temperature suddenly plummeted.

“I’m back,” Jon realised as he was jolted awake, but he knew there would be no more visiting for him tonight. With a loud sigh, he rolled over onto his side, burying himself under the furs of his Winterfell bed and quickly falling asleep in the peaceful calm of a cold, dry night, the raging storm on Dragonstone now far too far away for him to hear.

~o~0~o~

The next morning was to prove challenging for Jon, after such an eventful night with so little sleep and the added distraction of the amazing memories of his time with Dany. His first order of business was to change clothes again and then head out into the corridor to retrieve the cloak he had thrown on the floor last night. Shirts and trousers he had plenty of and could afford to leave behind, but he would make sure his cloaks stayed on this side of the door from now on, especially seeing how clearly they would mark him out as a northerner if he were ever to be discovered in Dragonstone.

There was still so much to do in Winterfell though: Repair work, hosting various northern lords, discussing and preparing for one attack or another. However, despite all of that, Jon worked hard to find some time to spend in his old room, bringing down a number of items from his new chambers in the Great Keep, including his wooden box of ‘treasure’ that had somehow managed to survive and stay with him despite all his many adventures. So, he continued to set the room up as his private sanctuary - making sure he had everything he needed here and ensuring that only he and Davos had access to the First Keep itself, not willing to take any chances, especially with so many unfamiliar people now living here in the castle. He spend the daytime in meetings with Sansa, the armourers, his commanders and the key northern lords, but freed up his evenings so he could keep up his visits to Dany, even whilst working hard to focus on the dual issues of the Night King and Cersei.

“You’re a fool,” he mumbled to himself on more than one occasion. “You really don’t have time to be courting.”

And yet, he had already thought of one good, practical reason for continuing to see Dany. She had dragons. Three, almost full grown, fire-breathing dragons. The perfect weapons against the Wights. And a large army too; Dothraki as well as Unsullied if the gossip that had reached Winterfell was to be believed. Now all he had to do was convince her to join his fight.

~o~0~o~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They got distracted!  Oh, well, it was high time this fic started to earning its rating. You've all been very patient and I've been pleasantly surprised at how much you have been enjoying this story so far even without all that. Thank you so much for all your lovely comments. 
> 
> So far, all the canon story lines have progressed as normal but that's now about to change. The storm Jon heard in Dragonstone should give you a clue about what meetings are happening the following day for Dany and who she's about to get a visit from. From that point on the Door is going to cause ripples of change which will slowly spread across the various story lines.
> 
> Some of you may have seen my Tumblr post giving some info about the next few chapters. Chapter 9 will be going out next Sunday as usual but we're setting out early on the 29th for our holiday to Edinburgh so you'll get Chapter 10 on Saturday 28th. We're due back the following Saturday night but Chapter 11 might be late if we decide to break up our long drive south or if I'm exceptionally tired. (our holidays are pretty active) It'll be out no later than Monday 6th though. Check my profile page for more info.


	9. Chapter 9

**Jon IX**

**Dragonstone (7x02)**

Jon attended a couple of Winterfell meetings the following morning and then worked hard to clear as much of his afternoon and evening as possible. Yes, there was a lot to do here, but he was the king, after all, and kings should be able to delegate when it suited them. Fortunately, he was feeling a lot less guilty now he had decided to view Dany as an ally who needed to be brought over to his cause, even though he’d had no chance to discuss the possibility with her yet, nor think about how such an alliance could possibly work given their decidedly unique circumstances.

So, as planned, Jon walked through to Dragonstone a little earlier than the previous evening, bringing a few spare items through that he could afford to leave here permanently, whilst actually carrying and wearing as little as possible. Dany had not yet arrived - probably still working to bring this castle into some sort of order after such a long absence - and so Jon decided to do a little exploration of this side of the corridor, trying to reacquaint himself with the layout and join up his hazy childhood memories with what his more observant adult side now saw.

Dany had already told him that there were more Dragon Doors on this side and that was the first thing he looked for, noticing just how distinctive they were when compared to the more common ones found on the both sides of the corridor. There was one very significant difference to these new doors though, each feeling cold and dead to his hand, just as the Winterfell one had for so many years. The door back home still felt warm, although not quite as vibrant as when he was on the other side of it, the incessant pull and emotions he usually felt curiously absent now that he was already here.

The doors had always appeared to be made of wood marked purely by age. However, although there was no doubt that they were truly ancient, Jon now realised they were showing something surprisingly close to their original colour; hard wood so dark it was close to black, interspersed with something very much paler. He had already returned to the main living room before the strangest thought occurred, prompting him to head straight towards the first Dragon Door he came across, located a little right of Dany’s bedchamber. He leant forwards, placing his bare palm against the wood, looking closely at the white streaks within it and shaking his head in wonder.

“It can’t be,” he mumbled. “Surely not.”

“You have some nerve!”

Jon spun round to see Dany striding towards him, her eyes blazing with an anger he had never seen before. “W-what?” he asked, looking back at the door, quite certain she wouldn’t be cross with him for being curious about it.

“Are you Jon Snow?” she snarled.

“What? Of course I am.”

“I thought you were Jon Stark.”

Her words completely threw him and all he could do was just gape at her for several heart beats. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re Ned Stark’s son.”

“What?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Aye, his _bastard_ son. Snow?” She’d spent long enough in Westeros to know of the custom, surely.

“Oh ...” She shook her head, obviously briefly thrown off balance before the glare returned. “But that is not what I’m cross about. You _dare_ to call yourself the King in the North?”

“Ah ..?” Had he not mentioned that either? “Aye, although I didn’t exactly give myself that title.”

“No?” She moved closer and he found himself taking a step back.

“I was named it by the northern Lords after I retook Winterfell from the Boltons,” he explained.

She continued to glare at him. “I am the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Jon.”

“Oh … I see. That’s what’s bothering you then.” If he hadn’t been struggling so much to keep a hold of this conversation, he might have found her fury over such a thing amusing.

“If you’re claiming northern independence then you’re in open rebellion.” She moved closer, still glaring, and Jon swallowed hard, slightly disturbed as he realised he was currently more turned on by her ire than scared by it.

“Dany, please, hadn’t we already said how little time we’ve had to talk about anything yet? Hadn’t we both accepted that we still had a lot of things to discuss?”

She huffed, glaring. “Yes, I know that, but, it’s just ... I got asked to summon you here to Dragonstone this afternoon and-”

“-What?”

She nodded. “A Red Priestess called Melisandre sought an audience with me today and said I should meet with you.”

He glowered. “That one! I banished her from the north. Did she tell you that?”

“No, she did not.”

“For the murder of a little girl. Burnt at the stake as an offering to her fire god.”

Dany frowned, shaking her head. “I didn’t know.”

“Why did she think we should meet?”

“Something about a prophecy prince? Probably to do with … this.”

Jon scoffed. “How could we explain ‘this’ to anyone?”

She shook her head. “We couldn’t and I’ve not decided what to do about her request anyway, although Tyrion did suggest we write to you.”

“Tryion? Lannister?”

“Yes, he’s my Hand.”

Jon gaped at her. “What? How … how did _that_ happen?”

She shrugged. “As you said, lots of news to catch up on.”

“Aye,” he replied with a sigh.

“So am I your queen, Jon Snow?” she asked, lifting her chin imperiously.

He smirked. “I think you’re rather more than that to me now, don’t you?”

“Urgh, so stubborn.”

“Says you.” He stepped forwards, walking confidently into her personal space, ignoring her brief flinch and pulling her close so he could rest his chin on the top of her head. He felt her sigh - almost melting into his embrace - and he smiled, both at his own comfort and the fact that her reaction proved he had the power to douse her fire.

“I returned to Westeros to take back the Iron Throne, Jon. You must have realised that.”

“Aye, and I’m currently worrying about fighting on two fronts. So I suppose, if you’re focusing on Cersei, that makes my life a little easier at least.”

“What?” Dany pulled away slightly in order to look up at him. “Who else are you fighting?”

He frowned, wondering if she would believe him. “The Night King and his army of the dead.”

She stared at him for the longest time. “Truly?”

“Aye.”

“So that’s what Melisandre meant then, when she said I needed to ask you about the things you’d seen?”

He shrugged. “Probably, and I had planned to discuss this with you soon anyway. To see what your plans were.”

“Oh?”

“Most of the army of the dead can be destroyed by fire, you see, and so dragons would be especially useful in such a fight.”

“Huh!” she scoffed. “Except I need them for _my_ fight and … why would I help you when you’re rebelling against the throne?”

“I’m rebelling against _Cersei_ ,” he retorted, narrowing his eyes slightly. “As are you?”

“Yes but _I’m_ the true queen. She isn’t.”

He shook his head, both amused and frustrated by her attitude. “Well, I would certainly consider you to be the better option.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re lousy at this, Jon, you know that, don’t you?”

“At what?”

“Negotiating with royalty.”

He grinned, pulling her closer, allowing his hands to slide to her waist and then a little lower, gently squeezing her arse. “Really? You didn’t seem to complain about the way I handled you yesterday.”

“Stop that, Jon. I’m cross with you, remember.”

“Of course you are.” He moved his head slightly, tipping it to one side and quickly ducking down to nuzzle at her neck, smirking as she moaned and tilted her head to allow him better access. “What can I do to improve your mood?”

“I heard tell that the Starks are honourable men,” she gasped as her hands moved up to his head, working to untie his hair again. “This does not seem to me to be at all honourable.”

He chuckled, now kissing her just below her ear and making her knees buckle. “Ah, but I’m not a Stark, remember?”

~o~0~o~

**Dany IX**

Daenerys’ mind was in turmoil, with just far too many emotions and thoughts to handle. She had stormed into her old living room furious at Jon, feeling hurt and betrayed, thinking how little she really knew him and worried that he may have actually been using her last night.

She didn’t want to dwell on her feelings regarding their time in bed too much either. Part of her that had actually been relieved when he had first pushed her away, wondering if it was really worth sullying their friendship for something more intimate but then, when he had returned and started to kiss her, all her doubts had fled and she remembered what she had felt for him when they had been younger. How confused he had made her with his handsome features and kind, loving nature.

And the act itself? She had honestly not expected it to be anywhere near as good and she had certainly not expected to feel such intense emotions during it. It had been a long time since she had felt anything resembling love, and her feelings for Jon were considerably deeper than they had been for Drogo, even near the end of her marriage.

And then, today, she was called into the throne room to meet with a Red Priestess who suddenly starting talking of a king called Jon Snow and, well, was it any wonder that she had felt so confused?

It wasn’t his fault, of course. She knew that really. After all he had been six years old when they’d first met and had always been Jon to her and she had always been Dany. Then, as she had grown older, she had deliberately kept her last name from him for obvious reasons and she now understood why he had never mentioned his. He had always treated his half-siblings as full brothers and sisters and so, when she finally worked out who his father was, Daenerys had just assumed his name would be the same. Why wouldn’t she?

And so Jon was now the King in the North? She should be furious - she _was_ furious - and yet she understood that it was Cersei the north had rebelled against, not her, and that she and Jon had had no time to talk about politics yet anyway. And, to make matters worse, he just wouldn’t take her anger seriously at all. Damn, that man knew her far too well - better even than Missandei - and he understood that once she was in his arms she would just melt. Gods he felt so good and pulling away from him was always so difficult.

“I need to hear your story from _your_ lips, Jon,” she said then. “What the priestess said about your history, about how much you achieved at such a young age …?”

“Yes?”

_He had been Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, which meant …_

That interesting thought prompted her to pull away from him, moving to stand back in front of the door he had been studying when she had first stormed in.

“All the other Dragon Doors feel as cold as this one,” she told him. “Only ours is warm.”

He looked briefly surprised at her apparent change of conversation before coming closer, stepping behind her. “Aye and yet it’s not always been. It was cold and unyielding for a long time after your last visit.”

“After I left.” It was true then. There _did_ need to be someone on the other side to travel to and yet ...

“What is it?” he asked, gently, hugging her from behind as his chin again came to rest on the top of her head.

She had relaxed back into his arms before she had even thought about it. “I hadn’t been back long when you came though and met my Unsullied, Jon and I don’t think that was a co-incidence.” She looked back up at the northern Dragon door. “This one used to be warm too. It was the one Viserys was always standing in front of. Where do you think it’s pointing towards?”

She felt him stiffen slightly against her back. “As in literally pointing?”

“Yes, I worked out years ago that our door points directly towards Winterfell. I think you’ll find that from your side it points here. South south-east.”

“Aye, it does. Which means this one is ...” Jon twisted around, looking over his shoulder to the door heading towards the corridor and then back, obviously making the calculations before gasping as the answer came to him. “Is it …? Does this one lead to Castle Black?”

“Yes and you were there for a time, weren’t you?”

“Aye, although you wouldn’t have been _here_ at that point.”

“No, but I did step through this door a couple of times when I was younger. I met with the old maester there, a Targaryen called-”

“-Aemon! You met Maester Aemon?”

She turned to find him smiling brightly - an expression she remembered well from when they were younger - and couldn’t help but return it, pleased that he had known the old man too.

“He _was_ still alive when you were there then? I did wonder. Yes, this door was warm when I was here before and so I was able to travel through to Castle Black, and I also stepped through _th_ _at_ one ...” She pointed to the door on the wall to their right. “… which leads to Pentos where Viserys was at the time.” She turned to look at him. “Do you understand what I’m getting at?”

“Ah no, not really.”

“This magic is Targaryen magic, Jon, and I think we are only supposed to connect with others of our blood so, the real question here is, why can _you_ do this?”

“The Starks have ancient magic too, as I said.”

She shook her head. “No, it doesn’t work like that. There’s only one Dragon Door in Winterfell, isn’t there?”

“As far as I know.”

“And yet there are numerous ones here; three in this apartment, another three next door and a bunch more on the other side of the corridor.”

He nodded. “I was just studying them. What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that Dragonstone is the ancient seat of House Targaryen and the centre of its magic. From here I believe it would have once been possible to travel to all the major castles and houses in Westeros and Essos, but only if there was someone on the other side to travel to. Only if there was another _Targaryen_ to travel to.”

Finally Jon understood, pulling away from her, his eyes wide as she also turned around to face him. “So why can you travel to me?”

And then, in a flash, the answer seemed obvious. “You’re a Snow.”

He frowned. “Yes?”

“So, who was your mother?”

“I don’t know. Father would never say.”

“She must have been Targaryen,” Dany declared, confidently.

“What?”

But there was one problem with that theory. “No, but who could she have been? The only adult female Targaryen who was alive at the time was my mother, I think. I’m not sure there were any others.”

Jon gaped at her. “Surely you’re not suggesting we’re siblings?”

She laughed, amused at his shock, considering the particular family they were discussing. “No. We’re less than a year apart in age, aren’t we? Which means my mother was probably pregnant with me _when_ you were born so no, that’s not possible.” She shook her head. “ I just can’t think who else it _could_ be.”

“Perhaps a bastard girl, sired by one of your male relations?” he suggested.

She shook her head. “I’m not so sure. I remember Viserys doubting that Aegon could be a Dragon as a half-blood and so I think … I really _don’t_ think a quarter-blood would be enough for this magic to work?”

“You honestly think I could have some Targaryen blood?” he asked, his eyes wide.

She looked at him more closely then, trying to put aside everything else and deal with this one amazing thought. The idea that maybe she was not the only one left of her family after all.

“There’s something there … perhaps?” she replied, looking more closely at his features and trying to see beyond the dark hair and eyes. “Something of Rhaegar in your brow perhaps and ...” She smiled. “He certainly was very handsome, as are you.”

She noticed him swallowing, although she wasn’t sure if it was her compliment or her proximity that was making him react. Then again, Jon had been brought up as a Stark so was probably having a few issues dealing with the idea of her potentially being a close relation.

“Ah, if we are related then … last night?” he asked, confirming her guess.

“If we’re related then we’re both Targaryens and so our feelings for each other actually make _more_ sense.”

He winced. “Seriously?”

She nodded. “You know our history well enough. We are drawn to those who share our blood. You feel it at the Door too, yes? The pull towards me before you walk through?”

“Aye, but …”

“Does that change how you view me then?” she asked, moving closer and draping her arms around his neck as she whispered in his ear, smiling as she felt him shudder. “Are you no longer attracted to me in that way?” She pushed herself even closer, rubbing her hips up against his. “Does this now leave you unmoved?”

“Dany ....” Jon’s voice held a stern warning, but she didn’t miss the fact that he actually leant into her rather than pull away.

“Hmm,” she said, as she continued to grind against him. “I think perhaps you seem a _little_ moved.”

“Seven hells.” He moved like lightning, grabbing at her so quickly that she squeaked, and then, before she knew what was happening, his lips were on hers, far less gentle than last night, whilst his hands worked swiftly to bunch up her skirts.

“I thought we were going to talk?” she managed, laughing lightly as he fumbled with the ties on the trousers she was wearing underneath her dress.

“Yes,” he said, “in bed. Let’s go next door, Dany. I need you.”

“What if I’m still cross with you?”

“Then you should punish me,” he replied, grabbing at her hand and pulling her towards her chambers. “In bed.”

“And if we _are_ brother and sister?”

He shook his head. “We’re the wrong age to be, you said.” He glared as he finally caught her eye. “Stop teasing me, woman. I know you want me too.”

“Do you now?”

He nodded as he quickly removed his shirt. “Deny it.”

She frowned, trying hard not to be distracted by the angry scars across his torso, focusing instead on the muscles they crossed, her fingers now itching to touch them. Then Jon removed his trousers too and she lost all desire to tease him further, quickly working to catch up, taking of her dress and under garments, shivering just briefly before she raced to dive beneath the covers with him, giggling as he immediately crawled down to kiss her between the legs again.

“Jon!” she gasped, surprised anew at just how talented he was, quite certain she was going to get seriously addicted to him if he continued to treat her this well.

She finished surprisingly quickly, her earlier anger and confusion helping to push her over the edge and she had barely caught her breath when she opened her eyes to find him looming over her, his eyes dark and full of desire, as he positioned himself in-between her legs.

“Do you want me, Dany?” he repeated, his expression serious, and she had no idea if he was genuinely asking for her permission or teasing her. There was still so much she needed to learn about her old friend now he had turned into this stern, unusually serious man.

“I want you, Jon,” she replied. “I need you, and my feelings for you are such that I’m honestly afraid that I’m never going to want to let you go.”

“Dany.” Her name was a mere breath of air, as he claimed both her body and her lips, thrusting into her as he kissed her, opened mouthed and hungry, muffling her cry in the process. The feel of him inside her was everything - completing her in a way her previous lovers never had - and she clutched at his hair as he pushed her towards the edge yet again, wrapping her legs around his hips and thinking of nothing but him. Wishing the rest of the world would disappear and let the two of them stay here in this bed forever.

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Dany were on good form in this chapter.  I love as a writer when you just put two characters in a room and let them got on with it.
> 
> I included the rougher copy of the map here as it shows all the doors mentioned in this chapter. I think that's another job for me this holiday. A full, detailed map of the whole Dragon Door wing.
> 
> So, yes, summer holidays are finally here for me now which means I'll be able to do quite a bit more writing, planning and drawing. I'm hoping to get to the point where I can guarantee weekly updates to the end of Act 3 (pretty much there already) and finally sort out the planning for Act 4. Ruben8554 asked light-heartedly if there could be more than 24 chapters to this fic and my recent planning work makes me think that could very well happen.  Certainly this is going to be my longest GOT fic by quite some way. Keep an eye on my profile page for chapter and updating details.
> 
> Just a reminder that chapter 10 will be out on Saturday next week as I'll be heading up to Edinburgh on the Sunday. Then you'll have to wait for 8 whole days (shock/horror) until 11 but, don't worry, I won't be leaving you on a cliffie.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out a day early as promised because we'll be leaving early tomorrow for our holiday to Edinburgh.
> 
> Keep an eye on the brackets next to the pov names (7x02) for the next several chapters as it'll show you whereabouts in canon we are at the moment. Right now you should easily be able to recognise the scenes from the show, but it will start becoming more AU again very soon.
> 
> And, it's that time again. Another three chapters and another lovely moodboard. [the-last-targaryens](https://the-last-targaryens.tumblr.com/) offers me pretties and I pay her with little hints about what's coming up so she can include them. 

**Jon VII**

**Winterfell (Set during 7x01)**

“Oh, Jon.”

Daenerys’ voice cracked with emotion, fingers tracing the scar around his heart as he finished telling her how he had received it. They had spent hours in her bed talking, mostly focusing on Jon’s story with Dany adding a few things about her life whenever it seemed relevant. They would now have two days and a night to themselves - otherwise they would never get any sleep - but they had needed to have this conversation today, especially in light of Melisandre’s visit and then, next time, it would be her turn to relate everything to him. Well, as much as she was able. Despite tonight’s long talk, Jon had to admit that he'd only scratched the surface of his life since the two of them had parted.

“Nine years worth of news,” he said, “and that’s not taking into account how little we really talked when we were children.” He huffed a laugh. “You didn’t even know I was a Snow.”

“You didn’t even know I was a Targaryen until you were … thirteen?”

He nodded. “I suspected it a little earlier than that but, aye, back then we were just children and playing was always far more important.”

“So, were you born in the north?” she asked him.

“No. I’m not sure where exactly, only that my father returned to Winterfell with me after the war.”

“So why Snow and not one of the southern names?”

“It’s not a hard and fast rule,” he replied. “It depends on a lot of things and my father obviously thought it made more sense considering where I was to grow up.”

She frowned. “I still wish I could work out who your mother was but … I guess we’ll never know.”

“You’re certain she must have been Targaryen?”

“I can’t see how you can utilise this magic otherwise and the more I think about it, the more Targaryen you seem to me.”

“Oh?”

“Stubborn, determined, barely controlled rage bubbling just below the surface? Sound familiar?”

He pulled a face. “Aye. Just a bit.”

“And then there’s our famed beauty and warrior spirit.” She moved her hand lower then, tracing in-between the scars to caress the pronounced muscles at this abdomen. “You certainly have a warrior’s body, Jon, and I would love to see you in action some time but ...” She froze for a moment, as the strangest thought flitting in and out of her head before she could fully grasp hold of it.

“What is it?”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure. Just a memory of something – someone. I did see you train of course but only when you were much younger. I’m just trying to remember when that was.”

Jon sighed. “I was so certain of my abilities when I went to the Wall. Cocksure.” He pulled a face. “Gods, how they put up with me when I first arrived I have no idea, but the truth of it is that I learnt most of my craft up there - first with the Night’s Watch and then with the Wildlings - and, truthfully, I’m sick of it. The fighting? I have the ability - so people say - but I don’t enjoy it.”

She frowned again. “The same was said of my brother.” She looked at him again, those flashes of faint childhood memories hopping in and out of her head and confusing her.

“What is it?”

She shook her head. “Never mind. We should sleep now, I think. Or you could return to Winterfell on your own?”

“No,” he replied promptly, leaning down to kiss her. “I think I’ll have you one more time and then let the magic take me back.”

“Again?” she asked, blinking in surprise.

“Hmm,” he said, lowering his head to nuzzle at her neck. “Unless you would prefer me to leave?”

Gods, what had she done to deserve this? To deserve him? “No, you can definitely stay for a little longer.” She giggled as his lips started to trail lower, his hands stroking and squeezing her breasts. “That’s another Targaryen trait, you know?”

“Hmm?” he asked, his mouth currently occupied at her stomach.

“The insatiable appetite of the dragon.” His reply was no more than a muffled scoff. “And, Gods you are _so_ good at this.”

He lifted his head briefly to smirk at her. “An ability I have that I _do_ enjoy then. That’s good to know.” And then he was back between her legs whilst Dany fought with the conflicting desire to just lie back and enjoy it, or order him to move so she could satisfy her own hunger.

Making her decision she pulled away from him, laughing at his complaint and pathetic pout at her apparently denying him. “Lie on your back,” she demanded.

He raised an eyebrow at her commanding tone. “Your Grace?”

“Are you going to deny your queen’s request, Jon Snow?”

“Depends what the request is,” he replied, although he was already moving to do her bidding, quite obviously curious. Thankfully they had both warmed up enough by now and so Dany straddled him in reverse, her knees on either side of his shoulders as she began to lay down gently on top of him, exposing herself to him completely as she slid down his body and immediately took his cock in her mouth. “Ah ...” Jon bucked his hips in surprise, before his gasp turned into a contented groan and she felt him readjust a little, hands tugging her hips towards him a little before his mouth was back on her again, both of them now suckling at each other. She slowly, lazily pulled her lips up his length, tongue and teeth teasing, before briefly releasing him.

“Do you hate me very much for suggesting this?”

“Only if you keep stopping,” he replied, gasping.

“You want to finish like this?” she asked.

“Do you?”

She didn’t reply, simply taking him back in her mouth, speeding up her movements and trying not to get distracted by her own pleasure as Jon continued to work her in turn.

She loved the sounds he was making now he was close, the way his hands grabbed at her hips and his body squirmed underneath her and yet, he wasn’t letting that distract him, his tongue now deep inside her - a fair substitute for his cock seeing how flexible it was - and discovering secret, sensitive places Dany hadn’t even known were there. All the same, she managed to finish him off first, ignoring his warning and happily swallowing him down whilst he gripped her firmly, refusing to let go until he’d got his breath back. He then returned to his task, dragging her hips up higher until she was straddling his neck and using both tongue and fingers until she was crying out his name and almost sobbing in relief.

“You all right?” he asked as he noticed her wince as she moved off him.

“Oh, yes,” she gasped, snuggling up against him, her fingers lightly playing with the ring around his neck.

“I hurt you?”

“I’ll have a few bruises on my hips perhaps, but I’m not complaining.” He took a deep breath, most likely to start apologising. “I mean it, Jon. I enjoyed that and I’ve marked you in a few places too these last couple of nights. I think it’s only right that we both fully claim the other as ours, don’t you?” She felt him still then, knowing him well enough to sense his uncertainty even when she couldn’t see his expression. “What is it?”

“We’ve not even met,” he said. “You and I have not actually been in the same place all this time.”

“I don’t think this is an illusion, Jon. You are actually, physically here with me now, even though it’s not possible for you to remain for long. It’s like ... you’re tied by a chord to Winterfell, stretching it tight until you relax into sleep and it drags you back home.”

“Yes, that describes the feeling very well. And if we do meet officially?”

“I think we will have to at some point, don’t you?”

“Aye.” He sighed. “Honestly, I’d be riding or sailing to you just as fast as I could if I wasn’t needed up there for other things.”

“Well, I’ll get Tyrion to send you that letter and we’ll take it from there. As you said, we’ve both got people who rely on us and have our own priorities to deal with first but, who knows, maybe this Dragon Door will be useful to one both of our battles later on.”

~o~0~o~

**Jon X**

**Winterfell (7x02)**

They had talked quite a bit more that night before Jon finally fell asleep, and his first order of business the following morning was to test an idea they’d discussed about leaving each other notes rather than crossing over themselves at inconvenient times. So, as soon as he woke up, Jon headed outside and crouched down by the Dragon Door, quickly spotting the edge of the scroll poking out under the corner of the door, far too small for anyone to notice casually. He unfurled it, grinning as he saw the small dragon Dany had drawn on it before pushing his own trial note back through for her to collect, trying to judge how far it needed to go. Then he returned to the room, jotting down all the relevant points from their conversation at his desk along with a few other thoughts that appeared in his head, and very quickly lost track of time.

In the end Davos had to come down to collect him, looking confused about his king’s obsession for his childhood room and eyeing him suspiciously as he moved closer.

“Why do you not just move chambers if you prefer it down here?” he asked.

Jon shook his head. “I like to have somewhere to hide away, nowadays,” he replied. “Still not entirely comfortable in this new role of mine, after all.”

“If you say so, but I wondered if there might be ... some other reason?”

“Such as?” he asked, still writing.

“A girl perhaps?”

Jon looked up from his notes with a start, shocked at Davos’ fairly accurate guess. “What?”

The man flicked a hand across his own neck, nodding towards Jon. “Just noticed the marks there and ...” He swallowed as Jon glared at him. “None of my business, of course, although I thought perhaps you should be aware that they are currently quite visible and … specific.”

Jon shook his head, sighing deeply. “Aye. Thanks for telling me. I know I can rely on your discretion?”

“You can, of course.”

“Good.” He put his quill down, rolled the parchment and placed it in the wooden box on his desk, before standing up and adjusting the shirt he was wearing, pulling the collar of it a little higher and bunching it under the fur of his cloak. “Now that task is complete I had better get on, I suppose. See what complaints my sister and the lords have for me today.”

~o~0~o~

The official letter from Daenerys, written by Tyrion Lannister, arrived a couple of days later and Jon showed it to Sansa whilst in the company of Davos, curious to hear their thoughts on the matter whilst also allowing them to influence his own reaction – seeing he wasn’t exactly impartial at this point in time.

His sister had been horrified at the idea of her brother even contemplating the invitation, despite agreeing that Tyrion was someone who could be trusted to a certain extent, and it soon became obvious that, from a northern point of view, there was no logical way that Jon could accept right now. However, it was interesting that Davos had quickly latched onto the same thing as he had – that dragons would indeed be a useful weapon to have on their side.

“I got your letter,” Jon said with a smile, waving the scroll at Dany as he strode into her living room in Dragonstone later that evening. “Tryion’s wording certainly managed to ruffle a few feathers.”

“Aw, did they not want their king to bend the knee either?” she teased.

“Ah …?” Jon handed it over, wordlessly, watching as she unrolled it and frowned as she took note of the words.

“I most definitely told him to include that bit.”

“Why?”

“Why would I not? You and I may be friends, Jon but that still doesn’t change the fact that you are rebelling against the Iron Throne, no matter who currently sits on it.”

He scoffed. “I think both you and Tyrion need some lessons in tact. I’ve just received two letters from two queens, both ordering me to drop everything and swear fealty. Yours at least contained some hint of an alliance request but, if your Hand had mentioned knee bending, I can assure you that would have been the end of any negotiation.”

“Northern stubbornness?” she asked.

“Aye, and I doubt even _this_ version would have moved me to visit you, even with the temptation of dragons.”

“So, what now?”

“We continue our alliance negotiations via the Door, I suppose.”

She smirked. “And in bed?”

He laughed. “That could be seen as a problem if it weren’t for the fact that both parties are benefiting equally from this relationship.”

“Perhaps,” Dany replied. “Personally I think I’m getting the better deal. Certainly I’m getting the larger number of rewards.”

“That depends on your point of view,” Jon said with a sly smile. “Having you squirming underneath me is near as pleasant as being inside you. I’d say we’re even enough on that score.”

She laughed at his turn of phrase. “Seriously though, Jon, as much as I would like to help, my armies and my dragons are needed for my southern campaign.”

He sighed. “I get that, truly I do, although I still don’t think you understand just how big a threat the Night King is to the whole realm.”

“He’s stuck behind the Wall though?”

“For now but ...” Jon shook his head. “It’s just the fear, Dany, having seen it all for myself. Knowing that every single person he kills takes away from our side and adds to his. Something a very good friend of mine once said, has stayed with me until this day. ‘When they wake up,’ he said, ‘I hope the Wall is high enough.’ I’ve climbed that Wall, I’ve watched Wildlings breach the castles and I can tell you for a fact that there are not enough men defending it right now to guarantee it will survive a focused attack by that many.”

“Well, you have my word that I will not force the issue of your fealty in the short term. I will happily leave you to focus on _your_ throne and then, once I’ve defeated Cersei, I will come north to help you.” She shook her head. “Although we will need to work out how to explain my doing so without requiring you to bend the knee first.”

Jon nodded. “Melisandre wanted us to meet. She wanted us to talk about these things together and, fortunately, the Door allows us to do so without pulling either of us away from our main enemy.”

Dany nodded. “All right, so … I think that’s enough for this session, don’t you? I believe we’ve made some progress?”

Jon shrugged. “Aye, I suppose we have.”

“Good." She smiled slightly. "So, let us now … exchange gifts to honour our tentative alliance and new found understanding.”

Jon smirked at her. “No need to by coy, Dany. If you want me to fuck you, you only have to ask.”

~o~0~o~

Two nights later, Jon was back in Dragonstone, pacing impatiently as he waited for Dany to arrive, with a scroll in his hand and a small wooden box resting on a nearby table.

He spun around when the door opened, briefly calming as he took note of her - just so beautiful - and she headed towards him with a soft smile, obviously expecting the usual affectionate greeting but pausing as she reached him, her head tipped as she sensed his mood.

“What’s the matter?”

“I just received another letter,” he replied, handing her the scroll.

“From Cersei?”

He scoffed, trying not to make some negative comment about how single-minded she was about the southern queen. It wasn’t as if he was in a position to criticise her for being obsessed with an enemy, after all.

“No, from my good friend Samwell Tarly at Old Town.”

“The Citadel?”

“Aye. He’s training to be a maester and I asked him to look for information whilst he was there.” Jon nodded at the scroll she was still holding. “Read it.”

She unrolled it, biting her lip as she read the words, her head tipping to one side as she looked at the small diagram Sam had drawn. “Dragonglass?”

“Aye and you’ve already seen it here on the island, I know.”

“I have?”

He nodded, moving to the small box, opening it and then fishing out the small piece of black treasure she had gifted him all those years ago.

“I ...” She moved forward to the open box, smiling as she understood what it was. “You kept all this … rubbish?”

“They were gifts,” he replied with a frown, offended by her choice of word.

She laughed lightly, coming forward and reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. “Is it any wonder I thought I’d made you up, Jon Snow.”

He shook his head. “That’s not why I brought it over though. This letter says this island has a mine, you see, and dragonglass destroys White Walkers and is an effective weapon against Wights too. We lost a huge cache of it north of the Wall and now have so little left.”

“So … you _do_ need to come over here,” she said. “Or …?”

“It needs to be mined and fashioned into weapons so, yes, I _could_ come or …” Jon frowned and lifted up the piece still held in his hand. “Objects can move between places and they stay where they’re left, unlike us, so the other option would be for us to pass it over from Dragonstone to Winterfell via the Door.”

Dany gaped at him. “I suppose ...” She shook her head. “I may not feel able to spare my whole army to take to your fight but, a few men to mine this glass. I believe I could give that a go except ...”

“Aye,” Jon said, having already thought of the problems. “We still have the issue of how we’re going to explain all of this. It’s all very well us negotiating and perhaps passing a few sacks of dragonglass over the threshold but, ultimately questions are going to be asked. We are no longer little children, after all. We are king and queen and both of us need to remain to reign effectively. Davos is already suspicious of my obsession regarding my old chambers and ...” He grinned at her, tipping his head back to show her just how visibly she had marked his neck. “… my secret lover.”

“Seriously? He thinks that’s why you’ve set up your old room?”

“Isn’t it?” he asked, smirking.

“Huh! Nothing so straight forward as that. Fine. No more joking around about negotiations in bed, Jon. Let’s sit down at the table and talk about all of this. _Really_ talk.”

“So, no rewards tonight?” he asked as he moved to sit down.

“If we make some meaningful progress then, perhaps.”

He grinned at her as he took a seat at the desk, knowing full well that neither of them would be able to walk away from the other tonight, no matter how important this conversation was going to be.

~o~0~o~

“We’re still going around in circles,” Jon complained some time later. “We have to think how this would actually work if we didn’t know each other. I’ve just discovered that you have dragons, armies and dragonglass, everything I need to help me win my fight, and your letter, despite the hint of threat contained within, is effectively suggesting an alliance.”

“Would you come then?” she asked. “If you didn’t know me at all?”

“Before I got Sam’s letter, no. Now?” He sighed. “They would all hate it but, aye, I think that now it would be worth the risk.” He shook his head. “It’s almost impossible to know if I’m letting … ‘this’ effect my thoughts though.”

“Fortunately, you don’t have to abandon your people in order to come and talk to me.”

“No, but I think I should still reply to you officially.”

She nodded. “What will you say?”

“I need this alliance with you. I need to keep you onside despite refusing your invitation to visit. So, what can I do? How should I answer this without offending you?”

Dany nodded, understanding this strange game they were now having to play. “What do you have that I need?”

“Only what you have already asked for. For me to take your side over Cersei’s.”

“You northerners have no wish for the Iron throne?” she asked.

“What? No. We’re just getting fed up with being told to bow to one monarch or another.”

“And yet, winter is here. How do you hope to survive if you make an enemy of the southern ruler?”

He nodded. “You’re right. We can’t. One way or another we _have_ to come to terms. You either have to allow us a certain amount of autonomy or I have to bend the knee. I can’t see that any other option will bring the north peace … or food, as you said.”

Dany nodded. “I have done that to a certain extent with Yara and Theon Greyjoy and allowed-”

“-Wait! What? Theon?”

“Yes.” She smirked.

“You recognised him?”

“Not at first. I didn’t really interact with him much in Winterfell, after all, but Tyrion knew him far better and mentioned enough things about him for me to put it all together.”

“He’s with you now? Here on Dragonstone?”

“He’s part of my alliance and … close by,” she replied cautiously. “But … let’s get back to the main point here, Jon. The one thing I can give you now is time. Currently you’re of no threat to me whilst Cersei most certainly is and, quite honestly, she is keeping me busy enough right now anyway.”

“So, I just have to ensure that you keep viewing me that way. Be openly polite and apologise for not being able to visit because of the threat _I’m_ facing?”

She nodded. “It’ll be interesting to see what my advisors make of your talk of White Walkers and the Night King. Yes, Jon, tell me of your war and your hope that I will vanquish Cersei. Say you also wish for an alliance so we can help each other out.” She shook her head. “We’re still missing something though. Honestly, how can I take you seriously? What’s to stop me thinking that you’re simply biding your time until you come up with a way to defeat me?”

The answer hit him all of a sudden and he looked up at her wide eyed, forcing himself to keep a straight face. “I can offer you a different sort of alliance.”

“What do you mean?”

“A marriage alliance.”

She gaped at him for a moment before her lips twitched slightly. “If that was supposed to be a proposal, Jon, I have to admit that I’m most disappointed.”

He grinned. “It would work though, yes? If we’re married then there won’t have to be any direct bending of the knee, which will satisfy the northern sensibilities and yet, you will also be guaranteed my full support.”

“The King in the North hasn’t even met me though,” she said. “He knows nothing other than a few rumours, and I doubt those that have reached Winterfell are especially flattering?”

He pulled a face. “You’re right. They’ll all think me brave, foolhardy or both but then … that’s nothing new.”

She was thoughtful for a moment. “My advisors might say that I could make a better match. That the circumstances of your birth make you unworthy of a queen and yet ...”

“And yet?”

“If you were to suggest this marriage alliance then I would have to be honest and explain that I couldn’t give you an heir. How would that go down with you and the north?”

He frowned. “As a bastard and then a man of the Night’s Watch, I accepted long ago that children were not in my future. I’m sure many will question us about heirs but it doesn’t have to be all about descendants. I would name Sansa as mine and I’m sure you can find someone worthy to succeed you too.” He shook his head. “Honestly, the danger we face from both sides means there’s no guarantee that any of us will survive this winter anyway. However, a successful alliance now really is the only way of giving us some fighting chance.”

“Fine,” she agreed. “Scribe your letter with that in mind and we’ll take it from there. We’ll keep negotiating our alliance officially via raven whilst you deal with your issues and I deal with mine.” She frowned, her mind obviously drifting.

“Do you want to talk about any of that?” he asked.

She shook her head smiling. “It’s fine. It’s mostly sorted now, I think. I’ve met with my allies and we’re putting things into motion.”

“Oh?”

She grinned at him. “Ah, but you and I are not allies yet, so you don’t get to know all of my plans. Now, about that proposition of yours?”

“Ah, yes?”

She smiled. “Am I your queen, Jon Snow?”

He stood and moved to her side of the table, taking her hands in his and urging her to stand. “I wish for the King in the North and Queen Daenerys Targaryen to be allies, aye. I wish us to support each other in all our battles but also I … I love you, Dany and I really do want to marry you.”

“Jon ...” She was staring up at him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

“Tell me I’m not being selfish here and am genuinely thinking of what is best for everyone?” He tipped his head, curious as to her thoughts at that moment.

“You love me?”

“Aye. For as long as I can remember.”

She reached up to put a hand on his cheek, a soft smile on her lips as she gazed at him. “I love you too, Jon and I also worry about letting our relationship get in the way of everything we’re doing here but to be honest, right at this moment, I can hardly bring myself to care.”

And then they were kissing, hands fumbling at ties and fastenings, working to undress as quickly as possible and reward each other for a most successful negotiation.

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 11 _should_ be out as usual next Sunday, depending on when we get back from north of The Wall.  It's a long drive up there, you see, as I live just about as far south as south goes in this realm!  
> 
> I know people were expecting Jon and Dany to meet at Dragonstone as usual but, as I was plotting this out, I just couldn't see why Jon would risk leaving Winterfell when he knew they could already talk. Of course, that one decision will now start pulling us away from canon and this is the bit I was fretting about earlier in the year when I kept putting this fic to one side, thinking I couldn't make it work.
> 
> Of course, most of the rest of the storylines are unaffected by this. Dany's troops are already on the march, Cersei continues to plot and Arya and Bran are still travelling. It's like ripples on a pond though, as more and more canon plots will start to be influenced by this one change. Any thoughts about what might happen from now on?
> 
> I will be taking my phone and work Tablet with me on holiday so I'll still be contactable - just won't have time for any serious writing or editing. I've also recently re-discovered my old, neglected instagram account so you might like to follow me there or on Twitter to see pictures from my travels (jaqtkd for both) 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back home and pleased to still be able to get this out on a Sunday. I had a great time in Edinburgh and was grateful for the cooler weather up there after the heatwave weather in the south. I'm now looking forward to catching up with various updates from last week plus my own writing and, thanks to having pulled something behind my left knee the other day, am now obliged to rest up - so that's the perfect excuse to stay in front of my computer or perhaps write on my work laptop in bed.

**Jon XI**

**Winterfell (7x02)**

Jon was standing in the centre of Great Hall of Winterfell, currently packed full of his lords and vassals, with Sansa seated at the high table. This was definitely _not_ going to be an easy conversation. He raised a scroll in one hand and made sure he had everyone’s attention.

“This message was sent to me by Samwell Tarly,” he began. “He was my brother at the Night’s Watch. A man I trust as much as anyone in this world. He’s discovered proof that Dragonstone sits on a mountain of Dragonglass.”

A few quiet mumbles but nothing more than that. Jon handed the scroll to Lord Glover and raised the second.

“I received this … a few days ago ... _from_ Dragonstone. It was sent to me by Tyrion Lannister.” That did get a reaction, numerous grumbles echoing around the hall. “He is now Hand of the Queen to Daenerys Targaryen. She intends to take the Iron Throne from Cersei Lannister. She has a powerful army at her back and, if this message is to be believed … three dragons.”

Loud sounds of disbelief now echoed around the hall, although Jon could hardly blame them. He’d had enough trouble convincing them about the Night King.

“Lord Tyrion has invited me to Dragonstone to meet with Daenerys and, although I have no intention of leaving Winterfell at this time, I am going to reply _politely_ and accept their offered alliance.”

The voices grew louder, obviously not at all happy about what their king was implying.

“We need this dragonglass, my Lords,” he said, raising his voice to cut across their grumbles. “We know that dragonglass can destroy both White Walkers and their army. We need to mine it and turn it into weapons. But, more importantly, we need allies. The Night King’s army grows larger by the day. We can’t defeat them on our own. We don’t have the numbers. Daenerys has her own army and she had dragon-fire. I need to try and persuade her to fight with us, and I cannot do that if she views us as her enemy too.”

“Have you forgotten what happened to our grandfather when he attempted to negotiate with a Targaryen?” Sansa said. “The mad king roasted him alive. How can we ally ourselves with such a family?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Jon mumbled, frustrated. Time after time he asked Sansa not to contradict him in front of the lords but such requests appeared to go straight over her head.

“She is here to reclaim the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms,” his sister continued. “The north is one of those seven kingdoms. She is not looking for an alliance, she is looking for subjugation.”

General mumbles of ‘Aye!’ filled the room and Jon glowered, trying not to let his true feelings for Dany influence his reaction here.

“There is no mention here of bending the knee,” he told them. “Only of joining her in her fight against Cersei. I believe that Tyrion is sincere in his request here.” He turned to his sister. “You know him. He’s a good man.”

“Your Grace,” Lord Royce said. “With respect, I must agree with Lady Sansa. I remember the Mad King all to well. A Targaryen cannot be trusted. Nor can a Lannister.”

Jon shook his head; half-frustrated, half-amused. And what if he _did_ have Targaryen blood as Dany suspected?

“What would you have me do, my lords? Would you have me refused this offer and run the risk of fighting a war on _three_ fronts? The odds are against us. None of you have seen the army of the dead. None of you. We can never hope to defeat them alone. We need allies. Powerful allies and I need to do everything in my power to convince Daenerys that we are not a threat. At least her focus on Cersei will help draw the Lannister queen’s attention away from us but, even then, we really do need Daenerys to fight with us. So, I _have_ to reply and I have to offer her something in return.”

“So, you _do_ intend to bend the knee?” Sansa said.

He shook his head. “Not exactly. Not in the way you mean.”

“Then, what?”

“I intend to offer her a marriage alliance.”

The Hall erupted again.

“ _This_ is your solution,” Lord Glover bellowed. “We stood by whilst your brother made an unwise marriage and look where _that_ ended up. How can you expect us to get behind you on this and watch you make the same mistake.”

Jon rounded on the man, glowering. “This is hardly the same thing. I loved my brother dearly but he broke his political marriage alliance by following his heart. This is an alliance which will _serve_ the north not condemn it. It will give us the weapons and men we need and also help to keep Daenerys on our side during the long winter. How else are we expected to survive if we make enemies of _both_ queens?”

“I can see that this proposal has some political merit,” Sansa said. “But perhaps it would not be wise to mention a marriage alliance quite yet? At least until you can find out more about her and reassure yourself that she is not as cruel as her father?”

Jon smiled slightly. “Good of you to worry about my welfare, Sansa, but what else do we have to offer her, other than fealty? How can I convince her that we are not plotting against her if I refuse this request to visit?”

“And if she refuses your marriage proposal?” Lord Royce asked. “We have named you king, it is true, but you are still a bastard. What if that offends her?”

Jon shrugged. “It might. Or she might already be considering other offers - although I can hardly imagine who else would be of use to her that she has not already persuaded to her side. Either way I shall reply and see if my proposal is of any interest to her. Currently I’m not sure what else can be done.”

There was little more to be said on the matter and so Jon prowled back to the head table, his attention quickly drawn to Lord Baelish who was leaning against the wall with the usual inscrutable look on his face. In many ways the young king preferred the blustering complaints of lords Royce and Glover who at least told him what they felt, no matter how annoying or short-sighted. With Littlefinger though it was difficult to know what he was thinking and Jon worried that Sansa was too trusting of the man, no matter how often she claimed she wasn’t.

“You’re still questioning me,” he complained to her as they walked out of the Hall together.

“And you’re still making decisions without consulting me,” she countered.

He sighed. “I showed you the letter and asked for your opinion. Then I took your advice and refused the invitation to Dragonstone. But, still, complain to me all you like in private but I do wish you would at least try to support me in front of the lords.”

“You caught me by surprise, that’s all. I didn’t imagine for a moment that you would be contemplating marriage.”

“Isn’t that what lords and ladies and kings and queens do when faced with such issues?”

She shrugged. “I suppose so and, you’re right, it does make sense it’s just … you do like to make these grand announcements and that always makes me nervous.”

He nodded. “Then I will try harder not to make rash decisions if you try harder not to contradict me in public.”

Sansa smiled then. “Fair enough. Seriously though, Jon. What do you know of Daenerys Targaryen?”

He shrugged, avoiding his sister’s gaze. “I hear tell that she is young, beautiful and powerful.”

“With armies of savages and three dragons?”

“As I have an army of Wildlings and a direwolf. I would say that gives us quite a bit in common, wouldn’t you? And I always have had a thing for female warriors.”

He smiled slightly and she returned it, with an affectionate shake of the head. “You just seem so calm about it all.”

“I am simply determined, Sansa,” he replied. “Determined to use anything I have to advance our cause and protect the north.”

~o~0~o~

**Dany XI**

**Dragonstone (7x02)**

As well as negotiating with Jon in the evenings, Dany was also putting her own southern battle plans into practice during the day. She had met with her current, official allies - the Greyjoys, the Tyrells and the Sand Snakes - and worked with them and Tyrion to come up with the perfect battle plan; using Westerosi forces to lay siege to King’s Landing whilst her Essos troops would head for less obvious targets.

But all of that would take time to implement. The Greyjoys were now sailing the Sand Snakes south to Dorne to ready their armies, whilst Lady Olenna was starting her journey over land to Highgarden. Meanwhile her own troops were also being mobilised. The Unsullied were heading to Casterly Rock and the bulk of the Dothraki travelling to the Reach - where grazing would be good and they could more easily provide back up if required - whilst the remainder stayed behind on Dragonstone with her. And so there was nothing to do now but wait. Wait for everyone to move into position, and wait for Jon’s reply to arrive.

She had decide not to share the specifics of her battle plans with her friend and lover, both because they had more than enough things to discuss as it was, but also because she thought it would be easier for him to act the role his lords required of him if he didn’t know exactly what was going on in the south. Well that and the fact that Daenerys was only too aware how frustrated Jon was that she had all these resources that would be of use to him and was currently moving them in the ‘wrong’ direction.

She shook her head at the thought. She loved him and respected all that he had achieved, but she had gained her armies and her dragons through her own hard work and sacrifice, and she certainly wasn’t going to give them and her plans up on a whim, no matter how strong her feelings were for him.

 _She loved him!_ Those words had just appeared in her head unbidden, a stated fact in her mind in the same way she would talk of her dragons and her right to the throne. It was the absolute truth and yet, it still felt so odd - being in love with a man who she had not officially occupied the same space as.

~o~0~o~

Daenerys would often wander down to her old chambers on the nights she wasn’t due to meet with Jon; both to check for notes he may have left for her under the Door and also to do a little housekeeping; working hard to hide all evidence of her time with Jon from Missandei who would probably ask her questions that she would be quite unable to answer. Today, however, she was in for a surprise, turning around abruptly as the door to the living room opened, shocked at the idea of anyone else being here in her private sanctuary.

“Jon?” He froze too, although he recovered quickly and smiled at her, shifting the cloak around his shoulders as he walked into the living room.

“Hello Dany.”

“I wasn’t expecting you tonight,” she said. “Your note said you were busy?”

“Yes, I know. Sorry. I just ... came to pick up a shirt I left here and I won’t stay for long. We need our sleep on these nights off, after all.”

She smiled and nodded, taking a step forward and then frowning. “Are you all right? You look tired.”

He nodded. “I am a bit … got a bit of a headache.” He winced. “I really should go.”

“Not without giving me a kiss first.”

He laughed then, opening his arms as she moved closer. “It’s never easy to _just_ kiss you, you do know that, right?”

“Hmm,” she said, lifting her head, as he kissed her slowly, deeply and lovingly. She pulled away reluctantly, looking up to see his eyes dark with familiar lust, although his brow was still pulled tight and his face pale. She brushed his cheek gently. “You really don’t look well, my love. Go and rest. I’ll exhaust you in a different way the next time you’re here ... if you’re feeling better?”

“Oh, I have _plans_ for next time, don’t you worry,” he replied, giving her another brief kiss and a rather weak smile before turning and striding out towards the door, swaying a bit as he left.

It was only after he’d gone that Dany realised he’d forgotten to pick up the shirt.

~o~0~o~

Varys brought her the reply from Winterfell a few days after Jon had shown it to her for her approval; something which amused her greatly. The eunuch’s face was its usual mask but she was quite aware that he was known to read the odd private scroll if he thought it in their interest to do so, although she hoped his professed loyalty would prevent him from doing so with those addressed to her.

She went through the motions of reading it in front of Varys, frowning as she took note of the words and trying to act as if she had not played a large part in its creation.

“I will need to discuss this with the council,” she said.

“Is the King in the North’s reply not to your satisfaction?” he asked.

“It is … unexpected,” she lied. “If you would?”

“Of course, my queen.”

~o~0~o~

“Jon Snow has refused the invitation to visit Dragonstone,” she began, working to keep her tone haughty and disapproving as she handed to scroll to her left to be passed around to her advisors. “Although he does appear keen to continue with alliance discussions.”

“He is trying to put us off, perhaps?” Varys suggested.

“I would think that unlikely,” Tyrion argued.

“Oh?” Daenerys asked.

“He is nothing but honourable, much like his father,” her Hand explained. “Unless his character is very much changed over the last six years, I find it hard to believe he could be quite so deceptive.”

“He talks of staying in Winterfell to prepare to battle the Army of the Dead,” she continued. “Have you heard anything of this, Lord Varys?”

“Whispers certainly.”

“When I visited the Night’s Watch there was already talk of things beyond the Wall that were making the Wildlings nervous,” Tyrion said. “Along with pleas for more men to be sent to increase their dwindling numbers. In fact, I hear that that is why Jon Snow allowed them south in the first place, to escape this threat?”

“Most believe stories of the Night King and the White Walkers are just that,” Varys said. “Although such tales must come from somewhere, I suppose. After all, the priestess did hint that Jon Snow had seen surprising things during his time in the north.”

“She did.” Dany frowned. “So, he believes this to be _so_ urgent a threat that he cannot spare the time to come south and bend the knee to his queen and yet … he states that he _does_ wish for an alliance?”

Varys now had the note. “A _marriage_ alliance it says here.”

“I can see why he might have suggested that,” Tyrion said. “After all, what else could a bastard King in the North possibly offer you, other than his fealty, especially considering all the things he is requesting of you here?”

She shook her head, mind racing as she continued to play her part. “I need to find out more about this supposed northern threat before I can take any of this seriously, even though I knew a marriage alliance may be part of my quest here when I originally left Essos.”

“Although, as things currently stand, you do not actually _need_ such an alliance in order to gain control of Westeros,” Varys pointed out.

“Maybe not, but I would certain prefer it if the north were on my side rather than Cersei’s.”

“I doubt you need to worry about that,” Tyrion said. “The Starks do not have a good history with the Targaryens, it’s true, but their conflict with _my_ family is far fresher in their minds. If given the choice, I’m quite sure they would come over to you.”

“And what of his status as a bastard?” Varys asked her. “That does not bother you?”

She shrugged. “Not especially, but is that even relevant if he has been named king?”

“He still signs himself Snow,” Tryion noted. “Although I suppose he would not have the authority to legitimise himself in any case?”

“Easy enough for me to do _if_ our negotiations go well.” She sighed. “I really would have preferred to have met with him face to face though. It is just so hard to know what to make of a person via a scroll.”

“All I can tell you is what I gleaned from my time with him six years ago,” Tryion supplied. “I believe him to be a kind and honourable man and a highly skilled warrior.” He smiled slightly. “Also, If it helps any, I would suggest that Your Grace would not find him unattractive. In fact, I do believe the word ‘pretty’ was often mentioned around him when we were at the Wall together.”

Daenerys was unable to prevent an amused scoff from escaping although, fortunately, that could just as easily be put down to her Hand’s joke rather than her own agreement of his assessment.

“That is indeed good to know, even if such a thing hardly matters in a political alliance. What do you all think? Part of me wants to push harder and demand his allegiance but, equally, the north is currently of little threat and I do have more urgent matters to attend to.”

“I’m not sure that _demanding_ anything of Northmen is a wise move, Your Grace,” Tyrion replied. “They are an especially stubborn people and have every right to be suspicious of southerners. My suggestion would be for you to humour Jon Snow for a while. Do not either agree to or dismiss his requests, but rather continue to discuss a possible alliance with him. For example, the subject of … heirs should perhaps be raised at this point in time?”

She glared at his less-than-subtle comment. “It is certainly something which needs mentioning but might also help to put us on an even footing in regard to his own status.” She nodded firmly, happy that they all now seemed to have caught up with her. “Very well, Lord Tyrion. Scribe the next part of this discussion but I will see it before you take it to the Rookery?” She was still slightly annoyed that her Hand had left certain things out of the previous letter, even if Jon had thought Tyrion’s version more diplomatic than the one she had originally planned.

He frowned slightly. “Of course, Your Grace.”

“Very well. We will meet here again tomorrow at the usual time to discuss the latest news of our troop movements.”

And with that, she drew the meeting to a close and strode off, determined to have an early meal and bath before meeting up with Jon later that evening.

~o~0~o~

She strode into the living room next to the Dragon Door to find Jon adding some logs to the fire and wearing his Winterfell cloak for the second evening in a row, despite having said he would leave it on the other side from now on. At least he looked a lot less tired than he had yesterday.

“Sorry I’m late … again,” she said. “Only a certain letter arrived today which required an emergency meeting.”

“Oh, _my_ letter?” Jon asked, standing up and holding out his arms so he could rest his chin on her head as usual. “How did it go down?”

“Much as we expected. Slight surprise that you weren’t going to come along in person along with the general agreement to just keep humouring you for the time being.”

She felt him scoff as much as heard him. “Seems like you had an easier time of it than I did then.”

“Well, yes, Tyrion did remind us all that your family are not the biggest fans of either Targaryens nor Lannisters.”

“True, although I’ve no idea what my people would think if they suspected I might have some dragon blood of my own.”

She chuckled. “Well, there’s nothing much more to do, I suppose. I’ve suggested starting a small mining operation in the cave by the beach – saying that it might be good to have a bag or two available for later negotiations.” She shrugged. “I tried to act as if it were an afterthought and neither Tyrion or Varys complained so ...”

“Thank you,” Jon replied sincerely.

“We still have to decide the best way to get it to you though.” She sighed. “And any actual meeting will have to wait until after my plans have been put into operation and we see if I can take the Iron Throne quickly. You’ll also have to discuss our reply with your advisors before we can talk any further on the matter.”

“Aye.” There was a long, comfortable pause. “So, if we’re not to have a meeting tonight … what could we possible do to occupy our time?”

She smiled, snuggling closer to the furs around his neck. “Hmm, I wonder. You did say you had plans for tonight.”

“Did I? Well, this fire is beginning to blaze nicely now so we should perhaps settle ourselves down here.”

“Here? Not in bed?”

He pulled away and shook his head. “I don’t want you buried under covers tonight, my love. I want to be able to see you. _All_ of you.”

“Ah, so that’s why you’ve been working so hard at the fire?”

“Aye,” he replied. “And why I wore this.”

His cloak was soon on the floor in front of the hearth and he quickly knelt down on it before discarding his shirt and holding out a hand for her to join him. Dany had barely reached the floor when he pounced, hands on either side of her face as he kissed her urgently, and she took full advantage of his proximity by allowing her hands to run up from his stomach to chest and back down again, teasing lower, unable to resist palming his trousers, surprised at how turned on he already was.

“You need any help with that, Jon?” she asked, smirking.

“Hmm … eventually,” he replied. “But let’s get you undressed first. Do you think you’ll be warm enough?”

“I could just take of my small clothes, if you’re that desperate?”

He shook his hand. “No. I told you. I want to see _all_ of you tonight.”

“What if I tell you that I’m not one to take orders.”

His lips twitched. “Oh, I’m not going to _order_ you, Dany. I’m not going to have to." He held her face gently in his hands, dark eyes holding her gaze, lips so close to hers that she could feel the warmth of his breath. “Now, let’s see what we can do about this robe, shall we?”

And just like that, she found herself nodding dumbly, fingers already loosening the clasps before Jon took over, gently peeling back the two sides of it to reveal her thin nightdress,his eyes now on her body and his breathing picking up.

“Gods you are so beautiful. Whatever did I do to deserve this?”

She was still on her knees in front of him as his hands started to explore her body - slow gentle strokes with the tips of his fingers - causing her to lift her head and arch her back. Jon moved his hands lazily to her shoulders, a groan escaping his lips as he slid the strips off her shoulders and admired her body as it was exposed to him. She somehow managed to find the will to look back at him, now bathed in the orange light of the fire, dark eyes sparking and hair falling in curls around his face, and her lips twitched as she remembered Tyrion’s words earlier. She leant forwards, one hand stroking his cheek as his found a breast.

“Still so pretty,” she declared.

Jon threw her backwards onto his cloak with a growl, the move so fast and unexpected that she squeaked. His hands grabbed at her nightdress and hauled it off past her hips and feet so quickly she would have thought he had used magic. Then his lips were back on hers and she automatically opened her legs to accommodate him, wrapping her ankles around his waist and lifting her hips off the floor in her desperate search for his.

“My beautiful Dany,” he gasped, his hands now supporting her as he raised her hips even higher and sat back on his haunches, hooking her legs around his neck as he dived down between them.

It wasn’t an especially comfortable position, and Dany tried to wriggle her head onto the furs on his cloak in order to cushion it. However, any discomfort was soon forgotten as he got to work with fingers and tongue, bringing her quickly close to the edge as she urged him on … begging him to finish her. Unfortunately he stopped just before that point, lowering her hips gently to the furs before returning to kiss her lips, his hands running back up her body as he travelled.

“Jon … please.”

He smirked. “What’s the rush?”

It was true he was stronger than her but, fortunately, he was also easily persuaded, allowing her to wriggle out from his grasp. She pulled herself back on her knees and moved to untie his trousers, slapping his away as he half-heartedly tried to prevented her from doing so.

“I want to see you too,” she told him. “I want to see the firelight flicker over all of your delicious muscles and then I want to kiss and bite every single one.”

“Bite?” he asked, nervously. “I should warn you that I’m having enough trouble hiding all the marks you’ve left on my neck as it is.”

“Ah, but these marks will be in places were no-one else can possibly spot them.” She had managed to slide his trousers down off his hips, now eyeing his cock greedily as he rose lightly to strip completely. “Stop,” she ordered before he could crouch back down again and he did as she bid, one eyebrow raised in query as he stood fully naked in front of her. “Now turn around, slowly. I meant what I said.”

He frowned a little but did as she asked all the same. Dany had only really caught glimpses of his body before now - faintly lit by candlelight or half hidden by covers - and had felt his muscles too, firm and tantalising under her fingers. However, despite that, she had not been prepared for the sight as Jon turned fully away from her, the strong muscles of his legs giving way to the even more impressive curves of his arse.

“No, you’re right,” she gasped. “Pretty is the wrong word. Beautiful barely covers it. Stop.” She stood up as he froze, still facing away from her, and she moved quickly to close the gap, her hands quickly grabbing at him, gently squeezing and exploring as he twitched violently.

“That tickles.”

“Hmm, “ she said, crouching down so she could place a gentle kiss on one cheek before suddenly taking a firm bite.

“Ow!”

“Good enough to eat,” she declared.

Jon spun around so quickly that she toppled over, and he followed her back down onto his cloak, turning her over before she knew what was happening, very lightly tapping one of her cheeks before copying her move and gently biting the other.

She had scrambled up onto all fours before she even knew what she was doing, allowing Jon to place more kisses and nibbles on her rear before he moved closer, one hand reaching under her to grab a breast whilst the other moved between her legs.

“What would you say if I wanted to take you like this?” he asked, his cock already pressing temptingly against her.

“I would tell you to stop talking and get on with it,” she countered, wondering at her sudden enthusiasm when she had so disliked this position in the past. But this was Jon, whom she trusted completely, and the moment he entered her, she knew this was going to be a totally different experience, his thrusts lazy and tantalisingly slow as he placed gentle kisses on her back and his fingers found exactly the right place to help bring her along with him. Already so close from earlier, Dany was soon crying out in delight, with Jon first cursing as her muscles squeezed him tight and then thrusting a little more firmly a few times to finish himself.

“You’re always so impatient,” he complained as he collapsed down next to her.

“Me? You’re the one who could hardly wait to have me stripped bare on your cloak.

“Hmm,” he sighed, stroking the material first and then her arm. “Going to be thinking about what happened on this all day tomorrow.”

“You are King in the North, Jon, remember?” she teased. “You are going to need to focus.”

“I know,” he replied, kissing her softly, “but you do make that so very, very difficult.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there are quite a few elements of 7x02 which remain the same here although that is obviously set to change for the next chapter which will cover the 7x03 timeline without Jon at Dragonstone. Chapter 12 will also mark the end of Act 2 and from there our journey will venture fully back into AU territory. Fortunately there's no need for me to pause there as I'd once feared. I can definitely continue with the weekly updates for at least the whole of Act 3 and hopefully longer now I've the rest of the summer holidays free to deal with plotting/writing Act 4. See my profile page for up to date information.


	12. Chapter 12

**Dany XII**

**Winterfell (7x03)**

Varys’ news had sent Daenerys into a tailspin. All their careful planning was starting to unravel and, despite the western part of the plan still being in progress, she couldn’t help but remember Olenna Tyrell’s words and wonder if the Queen of Thorns may have been right after all.

There was talking and shouting and complaints and regrets but, in the end, there was little to be done. Euron had sneaked up on the Greyjoy ships and captured or killed most of their allies. Without the Sand Snakes, Dorne would likely dissolve into chaos and the loss of a large part of her fleet would severely restrict their plans for blockading King’s Landing.

With none of them in the mood for civil conversation, Daenerys dismissed her council and headed back to the royal chambers, unable to stay long in her bath or occupy herself with reading. It was supposed to be one of her evenings away from Jon but she was too fired up to either relax or sleep and so decided to head through the Door, even though her lover may not even be in the First Keep if he wasn’t expecting her. Having no idea what would greet her on the other side, or if she might have to turn back around if his chambers were empty, Dany hunted around for some rare, dark clothing - including a scarf to wrap around her hair - before heading downstairs to the corridor and from there through to Winterfell.

Jon had already said that the ancient keep was not used for anything else at the moment so she was confident that she could step through unnoticed. She pushed open the Door, wrapping her far-too-thin cloak tighter around her shoulders as the cold hit her and walking towards Jon’s chambers. She would stay here for a while anyway, she decided, perhaps burying herself under the furs on his bed but then she saw the tell-tale flicker of fire and candlelight emanating from his room and let out a huge sigh of relief.

“Jon.”

“Dany?” He stood up quickly from his place at the desk, frowning. “What’s the matter? We were to meet tomorrow?”

“Yes, I know but I thought … I hoped ... Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Here, you’re shivering. Come closer to the fire.” She didn’t need to be asked twice, moving towards the blaze as Jon quickly threw his own cloak around her shoulders. “What is it, Love? You look so tense.”

“Our Greyjoy allies were escorting the Dornish home when they were attacked at sea.”

“Theon?” he asked immediately.

“I don’t know, Jon. I’m sorry.” He just shrugged in response. “Yes, I know you have mixed feelings about him after … everything, but you don’t grow up with a person without some part of them staying with you. I could never find it in my heart to rejoice at Viserys death, for example. No matter how cruel he was to me. He was my brother and that always means something.”

“Aye. Theon was close to that for me too, despite us never getting along.” He sighed. “So what are you to do now?”

“I don’t know. Olenna Tyrell warned me against clever plans. ‘Be a dragon,’ she said and, although I was reluctant to head straight for King’s Landing when I first arrived in Westeros, I can’t help but think that would have been the best idea after all. I just have a horrible feeling that everything is about to start unravelling.”

“That was only part of your attack plan though, yes?”

She had told him very little, but Jon Snow was a king and commander in his own right and knew how these things worked. “Yes. I just hope there are no more unpleasant surprises waiting for me.”

Having warmed up a little she had began to pace, only half aware of Jon quietly watching her.

“Did you come here to wear a groove in my floor, Dany?” he said eventually, “or was there something else I can do to help you relax?”

She turned, almost surprised to see him there for a moment before she caught the gleam in his eye and smiled. “I do find myself highly tense and frustrated right now.”

“Hmm,” he moved closer, sliding both hands under her cloak and around her back before pulling her flush against him. “Let me see what I can do about that.”

Jon’s initial kiss was loving and gentle, but that was not what Dany needed from him tonight. She quickly yanked out his hair tie and grabbed at his head, threading her fingers through his curls as she did so. She felt him wince as he deepened the kiss but was far too gone to ease off, her tongue exploring whilst she pulled his hair firmly with one hand and edged downwards with the other, grabbing hard at the front of his trousers.

“Go easy, Love,” he gasped, pulling away briefly. “I can’t service you properly if you bruise it.”

At any other time Dany would have dissolved into fits of giggles at this but tonight she was fired up and desperate and instead moved both hands to Jon’s chest, pushing him towards the bed.

“Clothes off and get under those furs!” Her voice cracked on the last word. Gods, she wanted him so badly.

The moment he was undressed she pounced, instantly straddling him and dropping down hard, not remotely concerned about the cold as she rode him fully naked. She moved fast and hard - thinking of nothing but satiating her appetite - but Jon soon urged her to stop, using his superior strength to still her movements whilst warning her that he could not possibly last unless she let him take back a modicum of control. Fortunately he seemed to understand what she needed now and went to work on her with mouth and fingers whilst she shouted at him for being far too gentle.

Her first climax at least eased a little of the tension, although she knew that would not be enough tonight and, from then on, the two of them fought as much as they loved, both working hard to satisfy her aggressive desire. Jon dealt with her demands by changing position regularly, entering her for a few, powerful thrusts before withdrawing and sending her over the edge in other ways. Only once he felt she was sufficiently calmed did he finally allow her back on top of him to ride him to his own end. Afterwards Dany collapsed on the bed beside him, calmer and sated but now feeling a little tearful.

“S-sorry,” she managed at last. “Do you hate me terribly for the way I behaved just then?”

He chuckled, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. “Anything but. Didn’t I say before how much I love having a woman who knows what she wants? Weren’t you the one who told _me_ about the appetites of a Dragon?”

“I know but still ...”

“You needed an outlet. I get that. And I’m hardly going to lie and say it was unpleasant.”

She looked at him closely, keen to reassure herself that he wasn’t just just saying that to make her feel better. “Truly?”

He kissed her again. “Not many men can boast that they’ve been quite so thoroughly bedded by a woman.  Although, next time, I’d rather you leave off the hair.”

She smiled, moving so she could stroke her fingers gently through his curls. “Oh, now I really _am_ sorry, Jon. I know just how much you treasure this. Perhaps more than anything.”

He glared at her, although the sparkle in his eye belayed his true feelings. “Not quite anything,” he replied, leaning down to kiss her tenderly.

~o~0~o~

**Jon XII**

**Winterfell (7x03)**

The following morning Jon broke his fast with Sansa, making a few plans for the day, most of which were about the arrival and storage of food supplies. She promised to talk about Lord Royce and Maester Wolkan about the final details and exact amounts but Jon was quick to point out that it was probably never going to be enough unless they could finalise their tentative alliance with Daenerys.

Leaving his sister to her work, Jon headed to his chambers in the First Keep to write his latest reply to Dragonstone, making sure he was still working to their agreed script. Afterwards he lifted out the treasure box he now kept here, looking through the various notes Dany had written to him when they’d been younger and belatedly realising that the scribbles on the first one were actually a rough map she had drawn of the Dragon Doors. Jon studied it briefly before curiosity got the better of him and, after quickly checking that the keep was locked and empty, he headed down the corridor and stepped through to Dragonstone.

He didn’t usually visit here at this time of day but was keen to compare her rough sketch with what he could now see. He wondered if she had a more detailed map drawn and promised himself he would ask when he next saw her. If not, then perhaps the two of them could work on one together. He didn’t stay long - conscious of the time passing - heading back to Winterfell to return the map to the box and giving the scroll one last look over before taking it to Maester Wolkan. His door swung open without the usual courtesy of a knock, making him jump, and Davos stepped in, total confusion on his face.

“You’re here?”

“Ah, yes?” Jon held up the scroll. “Been working on my reply to Queen Daenerys.”

His advisor frowned, shaking his head. “But, I was sent to look for you half an hour ago and you weren’t here. I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

Jon tried to keep his expression neutral as he internally cursed his rash decision to visit Dragonstone at this time of day. “What is it?” he asked instead, hoping to distract the man.

“Your brother … Bran …” Davos took a big breath. “He’s here. He’s just arrived home.”

“What!” Jon jumped up so quickly that his chair crashed onto the floor behind him. “How …? Where is he now?”

“In the Godswood with your sister. They … they asked you to meet them there.”

Jon dropped the scroll and grabbed his cloak, rushing out of his chambers at such a pace that Davos struggled to keep up. “You Grace,” he called out. “Jon! Where were you? This was not the first time I’ve been unable to find you.”

He ignored the question, breaking into a run and leaving his advisor behind, heading to the Godswood where he discovered his brother sitting under the Weirwood tree with Sansa perched on a rock in front of him.

“Bran!”

His sister was already rising, her face a little pale as he approached them. “Jon ...” she began, resting a hand on his arm.

“What?” His eyes darted between her and the tree, torn between asking after her and going to see his brother.

She shook her head. “Never mind.”

He frowned slightly, still worried about her, but Sansa was already heading out of the Godswood and so Jon turned his attention back to Bran.

“You’ve grown,” Jon remarked and then froze as the young man in front of him turned towards him and appeared to look straight through him in the process.

“Yes,” he replied simply. Jon blinked in surprise at the reaction before sitting down on the rock that Sansa had just vacated, itching to embrace his brother but suddenly not sure that was appropriate. “Hello, Jon.”

“Are you … all right?” he asked, a cold fear taking a hold of him.

“Yes.” His gaze appeared to focus on Jon a little more. “We need to talk.”

He smiled. “Aye, that we do, but perhaps you’d be more comfortable inside?”

Bran looked up at the tree, frowning very slightly. “They’re finding us accommodations now and the maester said something about a new chair? I’ll stay here for now.”

“Us?”

“Meera Reed brought me back.”

Jon frowned, so many questions now crowding his mind but with no idea where to start. “What happened, Bran?”

There was a long pause. “I travelled beyond the Wall and became the three eyed Raven.”

“Which means?”

“I can see everything. I can see the past, present and future and ...” His gaze returned to Jon. “I have seen many things regarding you. Important events in your past as well as thing that make little sense.”

Jon frowned. “Magic?”

“Of a sort.”

Jon turned his head to check they were quite alone. “What have you seen, Bran? Have you seen who my mother is?”

“Yes.”

He took a deep breath. “Was she ... Targaryen?”

His brother had appeared quite emotionless so far, but even he looked surprised at this question, his gaze briefly, fully holding Jon’s as he blinked a couple of times. “No. That was your father. Rhaegar.”

“Rhaegar? But … That can’t be right.” And yet, Dany had kept mentioning her older brother in relation to him. Every time she had tried to see her blood in him she would make the comparison. “Then …? My mother …?” Of course, there was one very obvious connection between Rhaegar and House Stark. “… Lyanna?” The name was a mere whisper on his lips as a sudden flood of emotions hit him, causing him to sway slightly.

“Yes.” Still Bran seemed calm, some might even say uncaring, as he delivered such earth shattering news. “Eddard Stark was never your father. He only claimed you to protect you. He promised his sister he would keep her Targaryen son safe from King Robert.” He tipped his head. “How is it that you’ve guessed some of this already?”

Jon just shook his head, his mind reeling with far too many questions of his own. Not that he doubted anything Bran had said. In fact, after all of Dany’s comments, it actually made perfect sense to him, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to take a while for him to come to terms with it all. However, right now, he needed to put that to one side and attempt to answer Bran’s question by asking one of his own.

“What is it you saw regarding me that didn’t make sense?”

“I’ve seen you on Dragonstone,” he answered promptly. “I’ve seen you there as a boy when I know that you never once left the north, and my visions give me no real answers to that question, no matter how hard I try to see.”

Jon nodded, his mind racing. “We should go inside, Bran. We should get you warm and settled but later, when that is done, you need to come with me to the First Keep. There’s something there that you really need to see.”

~o~0~o~

“I have never once seen this in my visions,” Bran said as he placed a hand on the dark and light streaked wood of the Dragon Door. “In fact, I don’t think it _wants_ to be viewed in that way.”

It was the following day and the young man was now seated in a special wheeled chair that Maester Wolkan had had hastily made, having seen it in use at the Citadel. There was still some work to be done on it, the maester had told them, and indeed, Jon found it exceptionally difficult to push, each wheel apparently having its own idea about which way was forward. All the same, it was still easier than trying to carry Bran around the castle. Jon was strong, certainly, but he was no Hodor.

“The Door is Valyrian,” he explained to Bran. “Some sort of ancient magic?”

“Yes. It has weirwood in it, did you notice?”

“I thought so, aye. And is the dark wood the same as that on the door of our crypts?”

“Ironwood? Perhaps. Or Ebony from Essos? Both have magical properties but this …? To have them combined in this fashion? This is something unique, I think.” He looked up at Jon. “Where does this door lead?”

“In reality, nowhere. The curtain wall sits directly behind it.”

“There _is_ certainly magic here,” Bran continued, leaning forward in his chair to place his palm on the door. “But none that I can access.”

“That’s because you have the wrong blood.”

“I see. But it works for you?”

Jon nodded. "Do you remember a friend of mine, Bran? A young girl whose pale hair was usually covered but you once saw when you were very small? Arya called her a princess.”

“One of my first memories." Bran replied. "If not _the_ first.”

“Well, she is on the other side of this door. It is a passageway, of sorts. I can step through here to Dragonstone and she can step from there to here … and other places.”

“And if you open it now?”

Jon looked over his shoulder to confirm they were alone before trying it - nervous about sharing this secret but somehow knowing instinctively that he needed to. He grasped the ring and pushed, opening it to the usual, familiar view of the Dragonstone corridor. He turned to Bran whose face showed little more than idle curiosity.

“The door just disappeared as you pushed it and now I see only a plain stone wall through its frame. However, I sense … something else ... like the feeling on approaching a weirwood. The feeling that there _is_ a place to see, if only I could reach out and access it.”

Jon nodded, checking again that the coast was clear before very deliberately taking a large step over the threshold. Then he waited for a few heartbeats before returning to Winterfell.

“Interesting,” Bran said blandly and Jon smirked, guessing that if he’d done that in front of anyone else he would have witnessed a far more emotional reaction. Certainly Ghost was always extremely upset whenever Jon crossed over. “As you stepped forward it appeared the wall turned briefly to mist and then it was just stone again and you were gone.”

“I was in Dragonstone,” Jon told him.

Bran blinked, simply processing this information before nodding. “So, when I experience my visions, it feels as if I’m actually there and walking around,” he told Jon, “but, in reality, it is only my mind that’s travelling, even though some with strong magic can sense me to a certain extent. However, this is … more. You actually, physically travel to the place?”

“Yes,” Jon confirmed. “I can be seen by, and interact with, any person or object when I'm there, but this Door only leads to Dragonstone and only in the present time.”

Bran tipped his head again. “Are you quite sure about that?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “I can’t be certain but … it really does feel like the same type of magic. It feels as if the past and future is here too, even though they are always so much harder to view.”

Jon gaped. “I could step back into the past? See the future?”

“Perhaps, although you would need to know _how_ to do so and, as I can’t access this magic, I’m not sure I could help and …” He paused. “And the girl? The princess?”

“Queen Daenerys Targaryen.”

He nodded. “Your aunt.”

“Aye.”

“But rather more than that to you now?”

He winced. “We do have a lot to talk about, don’t we?” He looked back up the corridor and frowned. “How about we put you up in Old Nan’s chambers?” Jon grabbed at the back of the chair and wrestled with it until it pointed the other way. Let’s have a look at the state of it and see if it will be suitable for you.”

“Yes,” Bran replied. “I would certainly like to study this door some more.”

~o~0~o~

“I got your message,” Dany said, lowering her scarf as she entered Jon’s chambers the following evening and coming over to kiss him. “Why did you ask me to come here tonight?”

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” Jon replied. “Or rather … someone I want to reintroduce you to.”

“Oh?”

“Bran.”

She gasped. “Your little brother?”

He pulled a face. “My cousin as it turns out but, yes, the one you last saw when he was a very small child.”

“Cousin?”

He nodded. “You were right. At least partially, but I’ll let Bran tell you the rest. Scarf up, just in case.”

She nodded and covered her hair whilst Jon checked the coast was clear. Then with a nod, he took her hand and lead her to the next door along.

“This is where that old lady used to live,” Dany remembered.

“Yes,” he replied, “but I’ve decided it would be the ideal place for Bran, especially since I told him about the Door.”

She turned to him just outside the room, shocked at what he had said. “You did? Why?”

“He has some unique insights which are likely to be useful to us.”

“But, next door to your chambers?”

"I do tend to spend more nights with you in Dragonstone,” Jon replied with a small smile, “and it’s probably best that I keep doing that now anyway, as a few here are starting to question my disappearing acts. It wouldn’t do any good to have someone discover you with me in my chambers.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“Anyway, Bran has visions now. He can see the past and future, and can also view things that are happening now in other places. He says he has news for you. If he can focus on the specifics for long enough, that is.”

“I ... I’m not sure I understand,” she said, but Jon was already opening to door and leading her inside.

“Hello, Daenerys,” Bran said unemotionally as they approached his chair.

She lowered her scarf, heading over to perch on the seat opposite him with a smile. “You used to call me Dany.”

Bran smiled, suddenly, _finally_ showing a hint of the young boy he had once been. “I remember. It is good to meet you … properly.”

“Although still not without magic involved,” Jon said. “We’re trying to work out how to remedy that.”

He nodded. “With a marriage alliance.”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“Sansa mentioned it. I’m not sure she approves.”

“She also met me when she was a young child,” Dany said. “As did Arya. Do you have news of your younger sister?”

“Yes,” Bran said calmly. “She _was_ travelling to King’s Landing but has changed her mind. She’s heading back here now.”

Jon gasped. “What? Why did you not say so before?”

Bran frowned. “All these visions are … confusing. I haven’t really mastered it all yet.”

He felt immediately guilty. “No, of course. I’m sorry. I’m just glad to hear she’s alive and that I’ll see her soon. He turned to Dany, smiling and she looked delighted at the news too. She had always had a soft spot for Arya and his own heart was now racing at the prospect of finally reuniting with the girl.

“Anyway,” Dany continued. “Jon says there are things you need to tell me.”

Bran nodded. “Has he told you who he is?”

Dany shrugged. “I guessed he must have Targaryen blood to be able to use the Door.”

“She’s only just arrived,” Jon said, “So, no, I haven’t told her.”

“Jon is the son of your brother Rheagar and my aunt Lyanna Stark.”

“What?” She turned to Jon wide-eyed and he shrugged, still struggling with the whole idea of it. “But that means-”

“-that he’s your nephew.”

“That’s still all right though, isn’t it?” Jon asked. “We can still marry as Aunt and nephew?”

“We’re Targaryens, Jon as I said before,” Dany replied, “and so I doubt anyone here would be concerned unless we were siblings.”

“That’s not why I wanted to see you though,” Bran continued. “Jon needs your help but you have other problems to deal with before you can do so. Is that correct?”

“Yes. I need to deal with Cersei first.”

“And you were right when you said that Tyrion Lannister's plan is unravelling. You need to take action now if you don’t want to drag out this southern conflict and cause all manner of unnecessary complications.”

“What have you seen, Bran?” Jon asked.

“A great many things however ....” He tuned to Dany. “I have been viewing your troops moving in the south and Cersei’s too. You need to know … I have to tell you … Euron’s fleet is currently passing the Shield Islands. Heading for Casterly Rock.”

“No!” She gasped, rising quickly from her chair. “I … I have to go.”

“But it’s the evening now,” Jon said. “Surely this can wait until the morning?”

She shook her head, holding her hand out to him and then smiling at Bran. “Thank you. I will come and visit you again soon.”

“Yes,” he replied, and Jon placed a hand on the young man's shoulder before following her back out into the corridor.

“What is it, Dany?”

“Tryion recently advised me against going after Euron saying I had no idea where he was and it could be dangerous to fly around blind but, now I know his exact location, I can not only avenge my allies but also prevent him from disrupting the rest of my plan.”

“Which is?”

“He’s going after my Unsullied, Jon and, if he succeeds, it will set me back even further.” Her eyes were bright now, less concerned and more excited. Jon recognised the look. Understood it. He nodded, holding both of her hands in his.

“Just … promise you’ll be careful and come back to me.”

“Thank you.” She threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed him soundly, although Jon had no idea why she had responded quite so enthusiastically to his words. Then she pulled back to look up at him, her eyes still bright. “I shall take back what is mine with Fire and Blood, Jon. Just as you have done here in Winterfell.” She smiled more gently then, stroking his face and gazing up at him in a way that made his heart skip. “I was right. You _are_ of my blood and that means you are truly mine and I am yours.”

Jon gasped, eyes stinging. He had spent most of his life feeling alone and separated from his family only to realise that he was now closer to the Starks than ever before while also having found a second home in this amazing woman.

“I am yours and you are mine,” he agreed. “I love you, Dany and I long for the day when all of this is sorted and we can marry.”

Then he gave her another long, hard kiss before letting her go, watching as she opened the Dragon Door and stepped back home to Dragonstone.

~o~0~o~

####  **End of Act Two**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My usual thanks to you all for your lovely comments and amazing support on this story.  The Prince Next Door is now set to be my longest fanfic in either fandom, having already hit 85K in my docs and due to end up over 100K. 
> 
> Most of you writers know how it is. You have this 'little' idea in your head but it's only as you start writing it down that you realise that you were severely mistaken. Things I assumed would fit into one act, actually needed to be in two ... or three and it's now looking like the original Act 4 plot will also be moving into a fifth! I'm not changing the current 24 chapters on this _yet_ but, depending on the work I do this week, you may well see it move up to 30 some time soon. 
> 
> So, this is the end of Act 2 - the moving away from canon - and Act 3 will now become considerably more AU as it covers the time from around episodes 7x04 & 5.
> 
> Since returning from holiday I've been plotting the craziness that is Act 4. I've definitely made some progress on that but this was me a few days ago! 
> 
>  


	13. Chapter 13

###  **Act Three: Fighting Dragons**

****

**Jon XIII**

**Winterfell (7x04)**

“So Maester Wolkan has a key to this keep now?” Davos asked Jon a few days later as he came to fetch the young king from his old chambers.

“I felt it was important for him to be able visit Bran at any time as well as help keep me informed more directly.” He finished off the latest scroll with a loud sigh and began to pack things away.

“It will make things easier certainly.”

“Aye, and it’ll also remain unlocked during the daytime now that Bran lives here. It’ll just be out of bounds during the night-time and evening.”

Davos took some time to respond. “I see.”

Jon looked up at him when his advisor said nothing further. “What is it, Davos?” As if he didn’t know what was coming next.

“I’ve followed you in here a couple of times, locking the door behind me,” he began, “but then, when I come to fetch you, these chambers are empty. At first I thought little of it but, on the day Bran returned, I looked everywhere - searched the whole keep - but couldn’t find you at all. Then I checked the Godswood, came back and … here you were, calm as you like, as if you’ve been here the whole time.”

Jon sighed loudly as he fought to find an excuse, wondering if it was now time to let his Hand in on the secret. “Davos ...” he began.

“So, I’m assuming there’s some ancient passageway here?”

“What?” Jon blinked, shocked at the comment.

“Leading to Winter Town perhaps? Somewhere you can visit this lady of yours?”

“Oh ...” Jon fought to keep his expression neutral, amused at just how perfect the excuse actually was. “You have every right to tell me off for that.”

“Nonsense,” Davos retorted sharply. “You’re a young man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. It’s only right you should allow yourself a little free time and … relaxation. You’ll be of far more use to everyone that way.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“I agree that you should restrict such visits to the evenings though,” he continued. “At least now that I know what’s going on, it’ll be easier for me to field the awkward questions.”

Jon looked up at him sharply. “ _What_ awkward questions?”

“Let’s just say I’m not the only one querying these disappearing acts of yours.”

He winced. “I did wonder.”

“Anyway, I believe it’s now time for your meeting with Lady Sansa?”

Jon nodded and stood. “Aye, it is.”

As the two men headed out into the corridor, they encountered Meera Reed who was here to visit Bran. Jon hadn’t had much time to talk to the young lady since she had arrived and promised himself he would remedy that very soon. She looked so pale and haunted, he noticed, the events which had so changed Bran having obviously affected her in a far more typical way. Jon had seen enough war and experienced enough loss to recognise _that_ particular expression on the girl’s face.

At the keep’s entrance the two men encountered Wolkan who was carrying a scroll for the young king, and Jon swapped it for the one he had just completed which was now to be sent to Dragonstone. He then sensed something and spun around quickly, his warrior instincts alerting him to the presence behind him long before his ears would have picked up the exceptionally soft footsteps.

“Good morning, Your Grace, Ser Davos, Maester Wolkan.”

Just the _sound_ of Littlefinger’s voice was enough to make Jon glower, struggling to smother that fiery anger that was always bubbling below the surface and threatening to explode out. What was _he_ doing here in the First Keep?

“Lord Baelish,” he replied as calmly as he was able. “Were you looking for me?”

“I was just here visiting Lord Stark ...” The man shook his head, smiling, “Ah, Brandon. Apparently he does not care for the title.”

“No. It was offered to him but he’s happy enough for Sansa and I to rule Winterfell at this time.”

The returning smile had Jon balling both hands into fists, fighting the overwhelming desire to punch it right off his smug face. “This place is an interesting choice of accommodation for two such high ranking leaders though. I am most curious about the reasoning behind it.”

“The ground floor chambers here have traditionally housed certain elder lords and ladies due to their very easy access,” Jon replied. “It made sense for my brother to be here.”

“It is indeed much easier to push his wheeled chair on these particular flagstones,” Wolkan agreed.

“And you, Your Grace?” Baelish asked, still smirking.

Jon stared at him, silently scolding the man for daring to question him. “I had rooms here as a boy,” he replied, forcing himself to smile. “Lady Catelyn thought it best I not be housed with her own children.”

“Ah, she was not fond of you, was she?” Littlefinger replied, whilst Jon continued to seethe, wishing the man would just stop talking so he could attend his meeting. “Well, it appeared she vastly underestimated you. King in the North. The last, best hope against the coming storm.”

Jon continued to hold the man’s gaze as he began to realise what he was up to. By engaging in idle conversation, Baelish was hoping to discover more about the young king and figure out how he might be manipulated. The thought both frustrated and amused Jon, knowing how most people struggled to read his emotions accurately.

“You will excuse me, Lord Baelish,” he said eventually, “but I’m late for a meeting.”

Littlefinger bowed and smiled and Jon wondered if the man knew just how unconvincing that smirk of his really was.

“I trust that man about as far as I could throw him,” Davos mumbled as the pair of them headed over to the Great Keep.”

“I trust him even less than that.”

Davos chuckled. “Well, of course, Your Grace could throw him quite a bit further than I could.”

The comment managed to ease a little of Jon’s anger. “Perhaps off the top of the castle wall?” he suggested blandly.

“Very tempting, I’m sure.”

Davos left him with a smile and nod of the head and Jon continued to his father’s old study where Sansa now worked. As he approached the room, he recalled standing here years ago, eavesdropping on Maester Luwin and his father as they complained about the Baratheon attack on Dragonstone. The memory rudely reminded Jon that Ned was actually his uncle, Sansa and Bran his cousins, but he decided to ignore all of that for now. He would keep his old relationships intact in his mind which would, in turn, make it far easier to keep his secret from everyone else anyway. With a large sigh, he pushed open the door and entered for the meeting with his _sister_.

“Sorry I’m late. Got waylaid by Lord Baelish.” He gave Sansa a pointed look. “Are you _sure_ there’s no job we can give him to get him out of our way?”

She shook her head. “I understand your concerns, Jon, honestly I do, but I really think it’s better to keep him close so we can keep an eye on him. Who knows what mischief he would plot if he went elsewhere.”

“Maybe, but it’s what he’s plotting right now that worries me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know and, I know I’ve said it before, but please, _please_ be careful around him, won’t you?”

The look Sansa gave him then almost reminded him of Littlefinger then, a small smile on her face as she considered him closely. “You don’t need to protect me from him, Jon.”

“Do I not?”

“No. Have you sent your reply to Dragonstone?”

He nodded. "I just gave it to Maester Wolkan. Now all we need to do is-” There was a firm knock on the door and he sighed and turned around. “… Come in.”

Two guards entered, looking nervously at each other before beginning.

“We’re sorry to disturb you, Your Grace, My Lady,” the older one said, “but … there was someone at the gate and … we thought you should know.”

“Who was it?” Sansa asked.

“Well, she seemed very determined,” the man continued, “and … we told her to wait. We were standing right next to her but when we turned around she was gone. S-she was nothing, some Winter Town girl.” The pair seemed highly nervous and were not exactly making much sense.

“She comes in asking for ah … Ser Rodrik ...” the younger one said, “… and Maester Luwin.”

“Arya!” Jon was already heading towards the door, Sansa also standing up and starting to follow.

“Ah, no need to trouble yourselves … we’ll find her and-”

“-You don’t need to,” Sansa said as she and Jon walked past the guards. “We know where she is.”

~o~0~o~

She was standing in front of Ned’s statue when Jon arrived in the crypts, already ahead of Sansa in his haste to reach his beloved sister.

“Arya!”

She turned instantly, a huge smile lighting up her face. “Jon!” She ran to him and threw herself at him in much the same way as she had the last time when he had gifted her that sword. She had grown up, of course, but not by very much, and so he had no problem lifting her up and hugging her close.

“Gods, how I missed you,” he said, laughing as he spun her around. “We all feared you were dead.”

“I came just as soon as I heard you’d taken Winterfell back.”

“Hello, Arya.” Sansa had arrived and was now standing in the shadows watching their reunion with a small smile.

“Sansa.”

She too smiled, moving forwards, although both girls seemed a little wary, eyeing each other for a moment and giving Jon a chance to look at the younger girl properly. She wore her hair in the northern male style and her clothes were similar too; breeches and surcoat, with her cloak crossed by the usual leather straps and with a familiar looking pommel peeking out from under it.

“So Jon is the King in the North and you’re now Lady Stark?” Arya asked, amused.

“Yes,” Sansa replied seriously, before finally smiling and moving forward to embrace her sister. The two girls had never been especially close as children, their personalities just far too dissimilar for them to fully understand the other. However, they were family, had probably both thought all the others lost at one point or another, and such bonds could never be fully broken.

“You shouldn’t have run from the guards,” Sansa told her little sister as she pulled away from the hug.

“I didn’t,” Arya retorted. “You need better guards.”

Jon laughed loudly at the comment, remembering just how easily the girl had slipped away from those assigned to care for her when she’d been younger. “I see you still have Needle,” he said.

“Yes,” she replied proudly, pulling back her cloak so he could see it better. “And I know how to use it now.”

“Stick ‘em with the pointy end?” he suggested.

She laughed briefly before the smile suddenly fell, showing a glimpse of a different Arya, one he did not recognise. Then she turned back to the statue of Eddard and gazed up at it.

“That doesn’t look like him,” she said. “It should have been carved by someone who knew his face.”

“Everyone who has seen his face is dead,” Sansa replied.

“We’re not,” Jon replied. “And also ... Bran’s here now too.” Arya smiled broadly at them both until she caught something in their expression and turned more serious.

“Is he … all right?”

“He’s … changed,” Sansa replied. “Far more than any of us. Come, let’s go find him. I expect he’ll be in the Godswood at this time of day.”

~o~0~o~

**Dany XIII**

**Dragonstone and The Westerlands (7x04)**

“You can’t just fly off there on your own,” Tryion said, working hard to keep up with Daenerys as she strode out towards her dragons.

“Who else can?”

“No-one but, we’ve discussed this. You don’t know where Euron is. You can’t just go flying around blindly when-”

“-I know _exactly_ where he is,” she disagreed. “And I know what he’s planning.”

“How? How can you possibly know?”

“I have to do this, Tyrion. If I don’t then our whole plan falls apart.”

She turned away before her Hand could ask her any more awkward questions. She couldn’t tell him how she had come by this information, but she also knew that Tyrion was often _so_ concerned for her safety that he would rather she stay safely behind the lines than fight. That wasn’t her way though and, in this case, her army would be of no use. This was now the only way that Euron could possibly be stopped.

Daenerys mounted Drogon and left Tyrion on the cliff, flying due west with Rhaegal and Viserion close behind her, remaining high over the flat lands of the northern Crownlands and the hills of the Westerlands. As they drew close to the west coast, she urged the dragons slightly south and then higher still, squinting hard to spot her prey.

“There,” she told Drogon. “They’ve reached Lannisport already. It looks as though we’ve arrived just in time.”

It was a clear day, but Daenerys still had the advantage of surprise; Euron’s attention focused north and at sea level, not up high in the sky to the south. So, she lead the attack on Drogon, dropping down on his back as he plummeted towards the ships at the rear and clinging on tightly as the force of the air at this speed pummelled at her violently.

“Dracarys,” she ordered as they got within range and Drogon, now being so well grown, was able to torch three ships with a single flame before lifting higher to allow Dany to survey the rest of the fleet, checking the relative positions of friend and foe. Her other two children then followed in behind, lighting up the next few in the rear, whilst Daenerys urged Drogon further north, focusing on the lead ship, determined to finish this threat before it could properly start. Theon and Yara had warned her of their uncle’s prowess and cunning and so she knew she needed to be prepared for any eventuality but, fortunately, in this case, there was little that even Euron could do against three dragons. Her arrival had been stealthy and unexpected with no possible way for the news to reach Cersei or her allies in time.

If Daenerys hadn’t had Bran to let her know, she would have been the one caught off guard.

She continued to instruct her dragons to burn the rest of the enemy fleet, her only regret being that she had not thought to ask Bran if Yara or Theon had survived the first attack and whether they were being held on one of these ships if so. It was too late to worry about that now though as she could not take the chance of Euron escaping. So, she instructing her dragons to continue their attack, whilst allowing her own ships to move as close as possible to Casterly Rock and help give support to the Unsullied who would still be fighting there.

~o~0~o~

Grey Worm came striding over as Daenerys dismounted Drogon on a large field at the base of the imposing castle.

“Do you need any help with the attack?” she asked her commander.

“No, it was easier than expected.”

She nodded. “Because you didn’t have to worry about Euron’s ships?”

“No, my Queen.” He frowned. “The force here was far smaller than expected. I think the bulk of the Lannister army must be … elsewhere?”

“Where?”

He shook his head. “I could not find out but ...”

“Highgarden!” Daenerys started to turn back towards Drogon.

“My Queen, it may be too late and ...”

“Yes? What is it?” she asked impatiently.

“Holding this castle will be harder than we thought. They knew we were coming and have taken all the food.”

She bit her lip, considering. “Our ships have some. Enough for the short term, at least. Do what you can and I will fly some more in for you later. Do everything in your power to hold Casterly Rock until then.”

Grey Worm nodded his head. “Yes, my Queen.”

Daenerys flew quickly south, hugging the coastline, and soon realised that Grey Worm had been correct. The attack on Highgarden had already happened and the bulk of the Lannister army were now in the process of ferrying their ill-gotten gains back towards King’s Landing. She was sorely tempted to rain down fire and revenge on the train there and then, but her dragons were tired and hungry and she felt she had bought enough time to confirm it was the right course of action before engaging them.

So she flew high to avoid being spotted by the enemy before headed slightly south-east towards the Reach and her Dothraki army stationed there, mulling over all her options and quietly making plans. She landed just outside their camp and headed to talk to her key Blood Riders, explaining what had happened in the west and how that would now change things. Then she gave them all their new orders and flew quickly back to Dragonstone.

~o~0~o~

Once Drogon had set her down on the usual cliff, she sent him and his brothers off to hunt and headed back inside Dragonstone’s castle, avoiding Tyrion’s questions and instead asking him to arrange a meeting where she would discuss everything that had happened.

Whilst her Hand gathered everyone up, Dany headed down to the beach and to the small mining operation she had authorised here, thanking the men who were working there and asking for a sack of dragonglass to take up to the castle. The queen then escorted one of the largest Dothraki down to the old living room and had him leave the sack there for Jon to pick up later. Once the man had left, she quickly wrote a short note and pushed it under the opening corner of the Dragon Door, hoping Jon would remember to check there as they’d arranged. That job done, she headed back to her new chambers in order to change for her meeting with her Small Council.

Tyrion asked her what had happened just as soon as she stepped foot into the Chamber of the Painted Table and so Daenerys quickly explained the situation in the west, suggesting she flew back the following day to help lend support to her Dothraki. And yet, despite all logic, her Hand still appeared reluctant, even though she was actually putting _his_ plan back on course after his own miscalculations.

“I have to agree with Her Grace,” Varys said then. “My little birds tell me that Cersei has been having meetings with a certain gentleman from the Iron Bank of Bravos. I believe the Crown’s debt is now very great and that the attack on Highgarden was implemented to remedy that. So, yes, I do believe that intercepting that train is now of the highest priority. We need to ensure that the gold does not reach its destination and also gain control of all other supplies heading towards the capital.”

“Good,” she said.

“Well then, if this is really going ahead, I think I should be there too,” Tyrion said.

“I’m not sure there’s time,” Dany replied. “Unless … I’m assuming you’d have no objections to a dragon ride?”

“What?” Tyrion’s face lit up. “I … I certainly wouldn’t turn _that_ offer down.”

“It will ultimately depend on Drogon, of course, but our bond grows stronger every day and I’m fairly certain I can convince him to carry you, along with a couple of my Blood Riders for your security. You’re quite certain you want to come?”

He nodded. “I think I should be there. I think I need to see for myself what my brother’s been up to and how we can get the King’s Landing blockade back on track.”

“Very well,” she said. “Rest up this evening and be prepared to leave first thing tomorrow. It’s time to remind Cersei that I’m a Targaryen and show her exactly what that means.”

~o~0~o~

She probably should take her own advice and get a proper night’s sleep, but the events of the day had Daenerys fired up and she felt an urgent need to be with Jon tonight for more than just conversation.

First though she ate, bathed and talked a little with Missandei, reassuring her friend about Grey Worm’s welfare as she helped prepare the young queen for bed. The girl was primarily her advisor not her handmaiden but the two women now valued this time together; a chance to talk about both formal, important things as well as gossip and laugh like the two young ladies they really were and, honestly, Daenerys trusted Missandei to deal with her personal and intimate routines far more than the other females assigned to her.

“I miss Grey Worm, of course,” the girl said quietly. “but I am glad he is well.” There was a pause, and Dany felt a sudden nervousness, guessing something of what her friend was about to say. “And ... you, My Grace? If it is not too bold of me to ask. You have found someone too?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Forgive me it is … it just seems obvious why you are keeping the old part of the castle cordoned off and … well, I did notice when tidying the area that there were … some signs.”

Daenerys sighed. She should have known it would be futile to try and hide such things from Missandei. “I would tell you more. You _know_ I would but ...”

“Your Grace does not owe me any explanation, of course.”

“No, but your friend probably does.”

She smiled, shyly, ducking her head. “But … you are happy?”

“I am.” She was quite unable to hide her feelings at that moment, her answering smile bright and excited.

“And this possible marriage alliance?”

She shook her head, feeling guilty for the deception. “That does not concern me, I promise you. I am perfectly content as far as that side of my life goes and will deal with anything else as and when it arises.”

“Of course.” Missandei said. “As long as you are content.”

Once alone, Dany paced her chambers for a while, waiting for the castle to quieten before heading down to the old wing for her prearranged meeting with Jon, now feeling strangely more relaxed after her conversation with Missandei. She still hated not being able to tell her friend the whole truth, but it seemed that both their closest advisors now believed a similar explanation for their regent's unusual obsession with their old chambers.

“I got your note,” Jon said, holding his arms out to her and obviously expecting the usual embrace so he could rest his chin on her head. Dany had other ideas though, reaching up to pull the tie out of his hair and kissing him soundly. Jon kissed her back for a few heartbeats before placing both hands on her face and pulling away slightly, a curious smile on his face as he regarded her.

“I see. It’s like that is it? Bad day?”

She shook her head. “Not especially. I fought on Drogon. Sorted a few things. Planned a few more.”

His eyes widened and he licked his lips. “Just the thought of you riding into battle on a dragon ...”

She smirked. “Yes? You like that, do you?”

“Hmm.” He bent down to kiss her again, hands sliding under her coat to caress her breasts first and then around to her back and down, pushing her hips up against his. “Always have had a thing for warrior women.”

She giggled. “Why does that not surprise me.”

“I was going to share some news of my own but … it can wait.” He kissed her passionately then, his hands on her shoulders as he moved her slowly up against the Pentos Dragon Door, hands bunching up her nightdress underneath her coat before sliding in-between her legs.

“Jon ...” she breathed as he dropped down to the floor and hiked one leg up over his shoulder. “Are you … finally bending the knee to your queen?”

He only chuckled before getting to work, lips kissing the inside of her legs first, slowly edging upwards and teasing her, until she begged him to get on with it. She cried out as he started to use his tongue on her and his skill - along with her battle high from earlier - ensured that she was quickly tipped over the edge, calf pressed up against his back whilst her fingers grabbed at his curls.

After that he resumed his gentle kissing of her inner thigh but, as Dany looked down, she realised Jon had loosened the ties on his trousers at some point and was now stroking himself, the sight of which made her groan in delighted frustration. He looked up at her with a smirk then, partially lowering her raised leg before moving up to a crouch.

“Hang onto my shoulders,” he instructed, placing his other arm under her right left leg and pushing her more firmly against the door.

“Jon … bed ...”

“Nope. Hold tight.”

He lifted her up with surprising ease, reminding her yet again of just how strong he was, despite his size. She held on as instructed but felt it was hardly required, his powerful arms pinning her against the dark wood easily as he adjusted himself into position and plunged into her. Still highly sensitive after his earlier treatment she cried out immediately and he paused for just long enough to check that it was from pleasure more than pain before resuming, setting a punishing pace.

“Tell me ... if I’m … hurting .. you,” he managed.

“Yes. No … ah! Gods! _Please_ don’t stop.”

He chuckled before speeding up and she didn’t even need his hand or hers to help her finish, somehow managing to beat him again, so quick was her second release. Jon followed behind soon after though, gasping in her ear, “Dany, my love, my heart.” And his voice so deep, so full of adoration, that it set her insides clenching again. She wouldn’t be at all surprised if his words alone could send her over the edge for a third time.

“Good job there are no Targaryens living in Pentos,” she said afterwards as he lowered her carefully to the floor, “otherwise I think you would have pushed us all the way through. Although, for a moment I did think ...” She turned, putting her hand on the dark wood, focusing to try to rediscover that brief, elusive sensation.

“What?” Jon asked as he also placed his palm there. “Feels stone cold to me.”

“It _is_ cold but … I thought I sensed something then.” She shook his head. “Something to think more on later perhaps.”

He nodded. “Shall we talk here at your desk or in your bed?”

She smiled. “Desk first perhaps. After what you just did to me, I think I’d fall asleep otherwise.”

He nodded, readjusting his clothes before taking a seat, whilst she joined him on the other side of the table.

“Arya’s home,” he said.

She gasped and then smiled on seeing Jon’s huge grin. “That’s great.”

He nodded. “I’m not sure whether or not to reintroduce you though. Bran is a special case regarding the Dragon Door but … I don’t think that telling too many people about this is a good idea.”

“Arya was quite a bit older than Bran when we last interacted. Do you think she would recognise me when we meet for real?”

He shrugged. “It’s possible. She always was the one calling you a Targaryen Princess, long before I had fully accepted the possibility. She also lived in Bravos for a while so it’s likely that she heard your name and may of made the connection anyway. I admit I am curious to know what she thinks but ...” Jon sighed. “There are some questioning my disappearances now and there are … a few people I don’t trust. It’s getting harder and harder to know how to deal with it all. The tension in Winterfell with the Night King threat hovering is just so great right now.”

“Well, think about it some more and let me know when I come back.”

He frowned. “Come back from where?”

“After today’s fight there’s another battle to prepare for and I don’t think there’ll be time to visit again you for a little while. I’ll put a note under the Door when I get back.”

“The Keep is locked up at night now so you can always come through to leave a note in my room if that’s easier.” He nodded. “Aye, that’s probably for the best. I think I'll sleep in my official chambers for the next few nights. Help pull people’s attention away from the First Keep.”

“You are the king there, Jon,” she told him, amused. “You should just tell them all how things are going to work.”

He grinned. “It’s a bit different here in the north ... Your Grace but, hopefully it won’t be too long before you find that out for yourself.”

She sighed. “I’ve no idea when but, yes. I long for the time when I can visit you in the daytime and wake up in your arms.”

His returning look was intense. “So do I but, for now, let’s see if I can tire you out enough so you can fall asleep in my arms instead.”

She was up out of her chair and heading for her bed-chambers before he’d even finished the sentence.

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still following the recognisable timeline of S7 but now moving rapidly away from canon.
> 
> Thanks as ever to [the-last-targaryens](https://the-last-targaryens.tumblr.com/) for the wonderful art for chapters 13 - 15. Giving you a few clues as to what's coming up. 
> 
> Some good work on this last weekend including a large amount of future plotting. As my Tumblr followers will know, this lead to the (rather terrifying) realisation that there is just far too much plot to fit into 4 acts. Even 5 acts is tight. So now I've moved up the chapter estimate from 24 to 36. 
> 
> I'm off work at the moment and would have done even more writing and plotting of this, only we got a new kitten on Thursday and so I've been distracted. All I've really managed since then is a few read-throughs of today's chapter but I hope to be a bit more organised this coming week. Here he is ...
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> 9 weeks old and you can see more of him on my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/jaqtkd), [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/jaqtkd/) & second Tumblr sideblog [prettybertie](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/prettybertie) I've been using the hashtag #aboyhasnoname because we haven't made up our mind yet.


	14. Chapter 14

**Dany XIV (7x05)**

**The Reach**

The Lannister gold train was making fast progress east, its urgent mission to reach King’s Landing spurring on soldiers and drivers alike. What they had not expected was a Dothraki horde charging towards them at full pelt and Daenerys ultimately had very little to do on Drogon, simply swooping low to spook the enemy horses; the Dothraki mounts now more than used to her children’s presence.

Only when a few wagons tried to make a run for it did she intervene more forcefully, dropping down from the clouds to flame the escapees and causing melted gold to ooze out onto the grass, still perfectly viable once it had cooled back down. After all, when Dany finally took back the Iron Throne, _she_ would be the one with all the Crown’s debts to pay off.

Tyrion came forward once it was over, some of her Dothraki rounding up their survivors whilst others dealt with the loot they had intercepted. Once all of that had been arranged, the work began to set up the next, more serious attack; a few men travelling east with the gold, whilst others set up roadblocks to King’s Landing to ensure that no-one was able to sneak past with supplies. That all sorted, the vast majority of her Dothraki forces resumed their journey west, this time to confront the main Lannister army, hopefully all smug and over-confident after their victory at Highgarden.

The second half of the battle began in a similar vein; the Dothraki attacking first with Daenerys flying in afterwards and firing at the Lannister lines to cause chaos and destruction. And perhaps she had become a little too confident herself, forgetting that there were weapons capable of bringing down a dragon, even thought the spear fired from the ballista was nowhere near long enough to cause any serious damage. After a terrifying plunge towards the ground, she was able to land safely in order to remove the spear, whilst Drogon flamed at some idiot knight who was fool enough to attempt to take advantage of the queen being on the ground.

Despite all that though, the end result was fairly inevitable. The Lannisters and their allies were defeated, Daenerys gave them the choice to bend the knee or die - no option to negotiate given here, seeing what they had done to her own allies - and she then left Tyrion to deal with the various issues that had now arisen. They would start by redistributing the food to those in the Reach, take the majority of the gold to Dragonstone for safe keeping and then, finally, begin the process of fully blockading King’s Landing.

Once satisfied that everything was under control, Daenerys decided to head back to Dragonstone, using the attack on Drogon as an excuse for wanting him back to check on his injuries. Of course, that was not the only reason she was keen to go home and, as it turned out, the news that greeted her on her return to the island made it even more important she visit Jon tonight.

That way she would be able to let him know what had happened here during her absence.

~o~0~o~

**Dragonstone**

“Jon,” she called out just as soon as she walked into what she now considered to be _their_ room next to the Dragon Door. “Theon’s alive.”

“He is?”

She nodded. “He made it back to the island with a handful of Ironborn today.”

“His sister?” Jon asked.

She winced. “Captured by Euron and, unfortunately, I can’t say for certain if she was with him when I attacked his fleet.”

He nodded, head down but still holding his out his arms to her so she could resume her usual position. He pulled her close and she couldn’t help but wince as he squeezed her tight.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m just tired and sore,” she replied, burrowing her head against his furs as his hands found their way under her coat and started to caress her, the position and action now delightfully familiar and comforting. “Lots of riding today.”

“Aye, I can tell,” he said as he ran his hands up her back, apparently testing the tension in her muscles. “Let’s get you onto the bed and I’ll see if I can rub away some of that stiffness.”

“Mmm, sound fun,” she teased.

“I’m serious, Dany,” he replied, although he was smiling as he took her hand and lead her next door. “I know a thing or two about relieving battle stress.”

“You most certainly do,” she countered, laughing as he rolled his eyes, before quickly stripping herself of both coat and nightdress.

“Ah, aren’t you cold?” he asked, eyes wide as she stood naked before him. “You didn’t need to take everything off.”

She smirked. “Stop complaining about it and get to work, Jon Snow.”

“Oh, I most certainly wasn’t complaining,” he countered, licking his lips as he watched her lie down on her front on the bed. “But it’s going to make it a lot harder for me to focus on the task at hand with you dressed … undressed like that.”

He sat down on the bed next to her to start with, his hands very gently massaging her shoulders and neck until he felt enough of the tension leave her to starting being a little firmer. Then he moved down her spine, small gentle movements with his fingertips, causing her to switch between gasps of pain and groans of pure pleasure. Whenever she yelped, Jon would lean down to place a small kiss at that point before working it more gently, but he was soon up and straddling her on the bed in order to be in a better position to work. Dany’s next groan was definitely in pleasure as she lifted her hips slightly in order to rub up against his.

“Behave,” he ordered her. “There’s still a lot of work to do here before-”

“-before you can fuck me senseless?” she suggested.

He chuckled. “Aye, something like that, but only if you let me get on with this first.”

“Hmm,” she replied, trying not to laugh.

He shifted over her legs as he moved his hands down to the base of her spine, his movements becoming gentle again as he encountered more tension from all the dragon riding she had done. However, despite his insistence that he was only doing this to loosen her muscles, Jon continued to place soft kisses on her back and then lower still, whilst his hands wandered over the curves of her rear and gently squeezed.

“Now who’s misbehaving?” she teased.

“These are muscles too,” he retorted, “and they’ve had a lot of work to do today. I know what it feels like after a while on horse back, I can only imagine how much harder that is for you.”

“You don’t sit back so much on a dragon,” she said, opening her legs a little as he began to massage the back of her thighs. “I tilt forwards you see and so … it’s the front of my legs and shoulders that get the worst of it.”

“Ah, right,” he said as he hands smoothed more gently over the rest of her legs. “You’d better turn over then.”

“No, let me show you,” she replied, smirking. “Lie on your back so you can see exactly how this works.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “All right, but I’m not going to get distracted until I’ve completed this.”

“Of course not,” she said, quickly straddling him and deliberately placing her legs around his hips, knowing full well what she was going to do now would _definitely_ distract him. “So, on a horse, you’re more upright … like so, and the movement is like this … “ And she imitated the riding motion, making certain to press down against the now very obvious bulge in Jon’s trousers.

“Dany ...”

“Whereas, on Drogon, I need to lean forwards like this with my legs wider apart and you see that pulls terribly on the inside of my thighs. Here … feel!” And she took one of his hands and placed it exceptionally high up, shuddering in anticipation as she felt his fingers flex against her skin.

“Gods.”

“Can you feel how tense I am there, Jon?”

The sound he gave then was half laugh, half groan as she returned to grinding against him in this position whilst he gently massaged the area she had indicated.

“Right, you asked for it,” he said soon after, flipping her onto her back in one, swift move. Dany thought perhaps he had given up on the idea of a massage but she should have known better, his stubbornness not allowing her to win the game quite yet. Instead he continued with the teasing, opening her legs in this position, placing her feet on the bed and parting her knees to crouch in-between. Then he continued to seriously massage the inside of her thighs, the movements slow and deliberate, with his thumbs constantly skirting just as high as they could go without actually touching anywhere intimate, his lips back to gently kissing in his fingers’ wake.

“Enough, Jon,” she gasped. “The only tension I have now is my need for you. Please!”

He looked up at her through dark eyelashes, his eyes sparkling with both humour and desire. “Well we can’t have that, can we, my love?” he said, diving back down to kiss her in a way that was far more familiar. “I would hate to make you more tense and undo all of my good work.”

~o~0~o~

**Jon XIV (7x05)**

**Dragonstone**

Jon couldn’t believe what this girl did to him. Over the years he had managed to cope perfectly well without the regular company of women but, nowadays, every time Dany walked into the room, every time she smiled at him, he grew immediately hard and desperate and it was now a common occurrence for him to wake up on his own in the First Keep chambers and stride straight back through the Door to rouse her and take another turn.

She was addictive.

It was dark and cold in Dragonstone when Jon returned the night after that most interesting massage. As soon as he was back in her room, he quickly threw his shirt on the pillow to put back on afterwards and lowered his trousers to his ankles before diving in under the covers, impatiently using his fingers to ready her before taking her hard and fast just as soon as she had woken enough to beg him for it. And she did nothing but encourage his lewd behaviour, even teasing him for being too gentle with her when he knew he was being anything but.

As usual it was never going to be one sided, Dany encouraging them to swap just as soon he got close, riding him hard whilst thanking him for having massaged her so well earlier so she could now service him properly.

Despite the initial passion though, Jon found himself close to tears by the time they had finished, cuddling her gently and exchanging soft kisses before reluctantly shuffling back into his clothes.

“I love you so much,” he told her as they started to drift off to sleep. “Just promise you’ll be careful out there and try not to undo all my good work.”

“I leave you a note under the Door when I return,” she told him sleepily. “Not quite sure yet what my plans might be but I will miss you so very much.”

He kissed her once more before pulling her close and wishing for the hundredth time that she would still be in his arms when he woke up the following morning.

~o~0~o~

**Winterfell**

Jon woke up with a groan, feeling exhausted after his night hopping between the two places. Dany had already said she suspected that utilising the magic was making them more tired than usual and that had been another reason for restricting their visits recently. Now though she was to be away from Dragonstone for some time, putting the rest of her plan into action; establishing a blockade around King’s Landing and visiting a number of southern castles to let them know what was happening and persuade them over to her side.

Jon had mixed feelings about her and Tyrion’s plans. It was all very well deciding not to attack the capital with Fire and Blood, but he couldn’t help but wonder if the blockade plan might cause just as much suffering to the citizens in a different way. What would happen to the small folk when the food stopped getting through? Would Cersei take things out on those who were the more easy target when she realised she had lost control outside of the city? Would her stubborn nature make her drag the whole thing out, not caring how many died as a result?

He had expressed his concerns to Dany last night although, as she had said, it really was up to each of them to deal with their own issues as they saw fit. After all, what did Jon truly know of fighting on dragon-back or the relative strengths of the Dothraki and Unsullied in the field? And hadn’t he started their whole alliance negotiation in the first place so that Daenerys could keep Cersei’s attention away from Winterfell? Of course, if what Dany had said about the last couple of days was correct, then she had solved his problem already. Thanks to her, the north no longer had to worry about an attack from the south and could truly focus all its attention on the Night King. He smiled at the thought as he dressed and collected up his belongings to take back to the First Keep, feeling suddenly more positive. He would obviously have to wait for the ravens to arrive before he could see everyone’s reaction to the southern news, but he was looking forward to receiving it officially all the same.

Bran’s chambers were empty when he looked in and so Jon made his way to the Godswood to talk with the young man for a while before leaving him to his visions. He returned to find a small audience had gathered in one of the smaller courtyards and was soon gaping in disbelief as he watched Arya sparring with Brienne of Tarth, stunning everyone by holding her own in a battle with an opponent over a foot taller.

Not quite sure if he was more surprised or impressed by the display, Jon settled for applause as the pair finished the bout with a blade to the other’s throat, trying to remind himself that his sister had never been destined to be a typical lady and that he loved her all the more for it. Just as with Dany, he would not only accept that that was her chosen path but give his full blessing. However, saying that ...

“That was truly impressive, Arya,” he said as he approached her afterwards, “but you and I need to talk, you know that, right?”

“Talk about what, Jon?” she enquired with an air of innocence that didn’t fool him for a moment.

“About exactly what your training entailed to have you reach that standard at such a young age.”

She shrugged. “It’s a long story, as all of ours are. I’m sure we’ll get around to telling each other everything at some point?”

“Yes?” he replied cautiously, hearing the edge in her reply.

“Of course, you have your own secrets and mysteries,” she continued, calmly.

“I do?”

She nodded. “I know you’ve told me some of it but others here are not so understanding. Some are saying that you broke your Night’s Watch vows. Others give even more outrageous accounts as to why you were freed of them.”

“You know the truth of it though,” he said.

“I do but, Jon, there are all sorts of rumours going around the castle now and … well, I think we need to be careful about Sansa too.”

He stopped and stared at her. “Sansa? What do you mean?”

“She and Littlefinger are running around trying to cover stuff up and … I think they’re trying to sow descent amongst the lords. Trying to hint that you’re distracted and are putting too much faith in this Targaryen queen.”

He turned to her then, frowning. “And what do _you_ think about that, Arya?”

“Well, I know that you are king here and a _good_ king and you have my support, of course, so-”

He shook his head. “I didn’t mean that. I meant what do you think about the talk of my distraction? Truly. Using your head here and not your heart?”

She frowned. “You have been … elusive, it’s true. Even _I_ lost track of you when I followed you once and I know Littlefinger has asked after you on more than one occasion.”

“Littlefinger again,” Jon grumbled. “There’s a pattern here.”

“Yes, I know he’s behind it but, all the same, Sansa-”

Jon held up his hand to stop her. “No, she’s family. I won’t believe she’s working against us.”

“But, what if …?”

“Oh, I’ve had enough of this.” Jon looked up. “Look, Maester Wolkan’s returning Bran to his chambers. Come with me, Arya. We need to ask our brother a few questions.”

“What sort of questions?” she asked as they both headed that way.

“The problem with the visions Bran has is that he cannot yet see what’s relevant and urgent. He’s getting all this random information from all times and places which means that we need to be specific and ask him exactly the right questions.”

“About Sansa?”

“Huh. I was thinking more about Littlefinger.” Jon knocked and pushed open the young man’s door. “Hello Bran.”

“What about Littlefinger?” the young man asked immediately.

“We think he’s plotting something,” Jon said as the two of them took seats opposite his wheeled chair.

Bran nodded. “Chaos is a ladder.”

“What?”

“That is what he told Lord Varys many years ago. It’s how he got to be where he is now. By creating drama and conflict and improving his position as a result.”

“And so, what is he plotting now?” Jon asked. “Here in Winterfell?”

“The same. He’s trying to stir up descent.”

“And he’s succeeding,” Arya said with a sigh.

Jon nodded. “What about Sansa? What hold does he have on her?”

Bran tipped his head, as if surprised by the question. “Perhaps more the other way around? Littlefinger wants power. _Any_ power. His original plan was for Sansa to have Winterfell and then marry her. However, Jon was made king and Arya and I returned home and now he’s not so sure he has the upper hand any more. All he has right now are the various questions being asked about Jon’s actions and he’s already whispering in ears to try to get the lords to doubt and question their king.”

“They have nothing though, surely?” Arya pushed. “Jon’s plan is sound. A marriage alliance with the last living Targaryen. That’s _good_ for our fight against the Night King.”

Bran turned to Jon. “You haven’t told her?”

“I wasn’t sure how to without explaining … the rest.”

“What are you talking about?”

He frowned, considering. “I’ve found out who my parents are, Arya.”

“You have?”

He nodded. “I’m not Eddard’s son. I’m … not really your brother.”

“What? Don’t be silly. Of course you are,” she complained and he gave her a weak smile in return, still trying to find the courage to say the words out loud.

“He’s the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark,” Bran said abruptly and Jon wasn’t sure if he was grateful for the help or frustrated by his very matter-of-fact way of announcing it.

Arya just gaped at him. “You’re Lyanna’s son? You’re ... Targaryen? That’s amazing!”

Jon rolled his eyes at her response. “Not that we have any actual proof to present to anyone. Not that it makes any real difference to my status anyway.”

“I … That’s just ...” Arya shook her head. “Does Littlefinger know this? Is that what all his scheming is about?”

“No,” Jon said. “Not as far as I know?” He looked at Bran who shook his head.

“None of that will matter to Littlefinger. He has no true loyalty to House and no interest in the truth. Only in sowing dissent so that he can manoeuvre himself upwards. It’s what he has always done.”

It was easy to forget what Bran was dealing with at times and assume his mind was currently working like it used to, but something in the young man’s tone made Jon pause and then change the question he had been about to ask.

“What has he done, Bran? What has Littlefinger done in particular that we need to know about now.”

“Yes … thank you.” Bran blinked and nodded, acknowledging Jon’s attempt to steer him onto the right course. “I think … I think you should take me back to the tree for a while and then the four of us will need to discuss everything.”

“The four of us?” Arya asked.

“Yes. Sansa is going to need to hear this too.”

~o~0~o~

“What is this all about, Jon?” Sansa asked wearily as she approached the entrance to the First Keep later that afternoon.

“Come in,” he said in reply, locking the door behind her and instructing Ghost to wait at the end of the corridor to guard against eavesdroppers. “Bran has called a family meeting.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

The pair entered the young man’s chambers to find him sitting with Arya, the young lady simply shrugging when she saw her sister. From what Jon had been able to determined, whilst he’d been focusing on the Night King and Dragon Door problems, the sisters had been revisiting their childhood differences and allowing Littlefinger to turn it into something potentially far more dangerous. He would have felt guilty about being too distracted to have noticed, but they were no longer children and Jon felt both should have worked out what was going on without him or Bran having to intervene. Hopefully it wasn’t too late.

“First, Sansa,” Bran said. “We need to know what Lord Baelish has been telling you about both Arya and Jon.”

She frowned, shaking his head. “Nothing, really. He’s just been advising me on how to deal with a few of the more vocal lords.” Arya glared at her. “No, really it’s all fine. There are some who have concerns about Jon, it’s true but-”

“That’s stupid, Sansa,” Arya interrupted. “They were the ones who named him king mere months ago. Surely you can see there’s something else going on here?”

“Well, there are complaints about Jon disappearing it’s true, but I think most of the lords sympathise. I mean ...” She winced, obviously uncomfortable. “It’s understandable really … I suppose.”

“What is?” Arya asked.

Jon sighed. “I think that some here believe this keep holds a secret passageway to Winter Town and that I’ve been using it to visit the brothel there.”

“What? You wouldn’t do that?” Arya frowned, looking closely at him. “Would you?”

He rolled his eyes. “I most certainly have _not_ been visiting the Winter Town brothel and, no, there is no secret passageway here.”

Arya narrowed her eyes at him and Jon quickly turned his attention back to Bran. Apparently, part of her ‘training’ had involved being able to spot lies and he was certainly skirting around the truth here.

“None of this matters,” Bran said then, his voice suddenly firmer. “Lord Baelish is struggling to make his plan work now that Jon is king and we’ve all returned, and he might soon decide to leave where he can cause chaos elsewhere. We cannot allow that to happen. It is far more important that you understand the chaos he has already caused and how that has affected members of our family.”

Jon nodded. “What has he done to us, Bran?”

“He has directly or indirectly caused the death of most of our family,” he replied. “All starting when he persuaded Aunt Lysa to poison Jon Arryn.”

“What!” All three of them turned to regard him in shock.

“But ... that was the Lannisters, surely?” Jon said.

“No. It was Petyr Baelish and you know what actually happened to Lysa don’t you, Sansa?”

She was wide eyed and nodding when Jon turned to look at her. “He literally did kill her.”

“What?” Arya also turned to her sister glaring. “You kept that information quiet.”

“He … he did it to save me.”

“Perhaps,” the young man said, “but he also did it to benefit himself.”

“Bran,” Jon said firmly, sitting down on a stool in front of him. “Is there more?”

“ _So_ much more,” he replied. “And you will need to decide what to do with all of this information once I’ve finished telling you.”

~o~0~o~

Bran told them everything. About how Baelish had persuaded Lysa to poison her husband and then write to Catelyn blaming the Lannisters for it. How he told Lady Stark that his dagger - the one Arya now held - had belonged to Tryion, pushing the blame for Bran’s assassination attempt onto that family too. How Littlefinger had engineered all of that in order to pit Lions against Wolves and ultimately cause the death of King Robert.

If Jon was angry on hearing _that_ part of the story, it was nothing compared to the pure fury that flared within him on hearing the rest. Of how Baelish had betrayed Ned by taking Cersei’s side in King’s Landing and causing his imprisonment. How that had tempted Robb to move south and take up arms against the Crown, which had ultimately lead to his death at the Red Wedding along with so many other members of his family and its allies. Never mind the many thousands who had also died or suffered directly or indirectly due to the War of the Five Kings.

“Jon?”

He hardly heard Arya’s quiet, concerned question. He couldn’t even remember when he had risen from his chair and begun to pace, his hands now balled into fists, whilst he attempted to fight the familiar rage which he now understood to be the Dragon inside of him.

“Summon everyone to the Hall,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “All our lords and vassals. I will have Lord Baelish stand trial for his crimes.”

“On what evidence?” Sansa asked, quickly holding her hands up as both Jon and Arya rounded on her. “I mean, what _real_ evidence?”

“He will stand trial,” Jon growled in reply, “and I shall see justice done.” And, with that, he strode out of the door and towards Littlefinger’s chambers, ignoring the concerned calls of his sisters behind him.

~o~0~o~

“Your Grace?” Baelish stood hurriedly from his desk, surprised at having his door flung open without the courtesy of a knock.

“You are to come with me,” Jon said quietly, his hands still balled into fists as he fought with himself to remain calm.

“Well, of course.” The man still had his customary smirk on his face, although there was perhaps a little confusion now flashing in his eyes too. “What is it that I can do for you?”

“You are to come to the Hall to answer for your crimes against House Stark and the Seven Kingdoms.”

The smirk turned to a look of shock, his eyes blinking rapidly. “Your Grace ... forgive me but … I don’t understand.”

“No? Shall I repeat it for you? Your king commands you to come to the Hall and, if you will not do so willingly, I shall take you there by force.” He stepped forward and enjoyed seeing Baelish swallow hard and take a small step backwards. His next small smirk seemed a lot less confident.

“I-I cannot believe that Lord Eddard’s son would use force on an unarmed man. I’m quite sure he would listen to reason before taking such a drastic course of action?”

Now it was Jon’s turn to smirk, stepping even closer, forcing Littlefinger up against the desk and savouring the real fear he could now see in the man’s eyes.

“Oh, but that’s not me at all, Lord Baelish. You have no idea who I really am or what I am capable of but, I promise you, you are very soon about to find out.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite pulling away from canon I realised that there were still a number of events that were likely to play out in the same way and that included the 7x05 battle, which is why I've not gone into a great deal of detail here. Although we do have big differences with Euron dealt with and Cersei unable to pay back the Crown's debt. So, we've now reached the point where the majority (but not quite all) of the storylines have been influenced by the Door.
> 
> The kitten continues to be a lovely distraction. We toyed with a number of Scottish and Game of Thrones names and had it down to Jon(nie) and Robb(ie) for a few days before finally settling on Robbie. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story hit a number of milestones this week. It beat Warg Riders for the greatest number of comment threads, just tipped over 17,000 hits last night and, this week, my story Doc sailed over the 100,000 word mark, ensuring that it will be my longest fanfiction in any fandom by quite some way (because the end still isn't in sight!)
> 
> Talking of comments. A few of you have been saying how much you're looking forward to certain things happening in this story and a couple of those are about to appear in this very chapter. Enjoy. 
> 
> I will continue to put the rough episode numbers up at the start of povs but most of the plot lines are now changed significantly.

**Jon XV**

**Winterfell**

**(7x05 but now AU)**

Lord Baelish had followed willingly at first but made the mistake of talking - and continuing to talk - as he did so, apparently unaware of just how much effort it was taking for Jon not to act as instant judge and executioner and end his life there and then. Finally, the young king grew tired of Littlefinger’s mewling and grabbed at the collar of his cloak, dragging the man into the packed Great Hall and all but throwing him onto the floor in front of the High Table.

Sansa looked shocked at the violent display whilst Arya seemed amused and even Bran appeared to have a small smile playing around his lips. However, a stern look from the elder sister had everyone in the Hall quieten whilst Jon, still wound up like a spring, prowled around the table to take his place by her side.

“I think it best if I lead this, don’t you?” she suggested in an undertone and Jon nodded his silent agreement, knowing his rage was currently far too great to allow him to speak coherently.

Coolly and calmly Sansa lay out Littlefinger’s crimes one by one, with Arya and Bran adding their evidence at various points. Throughout all of this Jon simply glowered at the man as he cajoled, simpered and desperately tried to wriggle out of the hopeless situation he now found himself in.

In the end Sansa’s earlier fears were unfounded, with no-one present attempting to cast doubt on the Starks’ testimony or ask how Bran could possibly know such obscure details. Lord Baelish himself seemed _so_ shocked by the accurate accusations thrown at him that he practically admitted to all of it, instead appealing to Sansa’s apparent attachment to him, or to the Stark honour, in the hope of being acquitted.

At the end of it all Jon stood up and spoke his first words since entering the Hall.

“Lord Baelish, you have been found guilty of numerous crimes against House Stark, House Arryn and the Realm as a whole. Therefore, as King in the North, I, Jon Snow, sentence you to die.”

“Please ...” Littlefinger pleaded one last time.

“I can do it if you wish?” Arya whispered to Jon quietly as everyone stood, her hands fingering the hilt of her dagger.

Jon shook his head. “No. I passed the sentence and so I shall swing the sword, just as our father did.” Despite knowing the truth, and even having accepted it to a certain extend, Jon still considered Eddard as such.

This time it was a couple of guards who grabbed Littlefinger and dragged him into the courtyard where he was dropped to his knees in the snow and bent over an ancient stone block, still sobbing and pleading for his life.

Jon then ground his teeth, drew Longclaw and, with far less hesitation than he had with Brother Slynth up at Castle Black, executed the man who had caused so much death and misery to descend upon his family.

~o~0~o~

A few weeks had passed and ravens were now arriving regularly with news of Queen Daenerys’ exploits in the south and how she was visiting castles and hold-fasts and quickly persuading them over to her side. The reports on exactly _how_ she was achieving this were inevitably mixed and contradictory, although Jon understood better than most that she was neither her father nor Aegon the Conqueror and that, when faced with three full grown dragons, most lords would be easily persuaded to pledge their allegiance. Well, that and the fact that the south had suffered more than the north recently from Cersei’s harsh rule and Daenerys would definitely appear to be the better option at this point.

During this time Jon had kept busy by training himself and others in preparation for the inevitable battle against the Night King. The rest of his days were spent in meetings with his siblings, advisors, commanders and armourers, working to ensure supplies, weapons and protection were offered to all of the north’s citizens and lords. Otherwise he was to be found in his chambers in the Great Keep, his presence there now hopefully pulling everyone’s attention away from the First Keep and the questions regarding his recent disappearances. Jon made a point of making himself more visible during the evenings too, spending time in the Great Hall during the evening meals, rather than hiding himself away as had been his habit since first being named king. His nights were also spent in his official chambers, although sleep mostly eluded him - the general stresses of command still haunting him and without Dany’s soothing presence. He would often wander down to the Dragon Door though, despite telling himself off for such sentimentality, placing his hand on its cold surface in the vain hope that he would sense the familiar warmth and pull and could step through to be with her again.

Just a few weeks. Not that long at all. Certainly not enough for him to be pining so thoroughly and missing her so desperately. But her absence was a deep ache in his very being - a gaping hole that he could not seem to fill - and Jon wondered again at their shared blood and the history of the Targaryens, beginning to understand now, more than ever, what had prompted them to marry within their own family. It had been to help control the dragons, of course, but he couldn’t help but think there may be more to it than that. Some strange necessity perhaps? If his ancestors had experienced even a fraction of what he felt now, Jon decided he could hardly blame them.

He was about to move away from the Door when he paused, thinking for a moment that he sensed something in the cool wood after all. He moved his hand slightly up and down convinced he could feel a slight warmth. Perhaps she was returning to Dragonstone right now? Perhaps what he could sense here was her some way from the island, but flying closer? He slid his palm to the left, then to the right, searching for … something. “Dany?” he whispered. “Where are you?”

There! The feel of her, just out of reach. A small tendril of fire. The touch of her mind perhaps? And yet …? Jon focused even harder, forehead pressed close against the door as if trying to hear a distant whisper or understand words by the movement of someone’s lips. Almost ...

“Your Grace!”

Jon jumped, pulling his hand away from the door guiltily. “Ah, yes? ... Davos?”

If the man seemed surprised at seeing his king leaning against a strange false door he showed no sign, his eyes now bright, much as they had been when seeking him out about Bran.

“You have to come outside.” 

“What is it?”

“Quickly. You won’t believe it, I swear.”

Jon started following his advisor immediately, striding back down the corridor and towards the entrance of the keep. “Are you not going to tell me?” he asked, but then froze as he heard something which had him briefly freeze, looking upwards as a strange, raucous cry sounded overhead.

“Dragons,” Davos said, his voice awed as they stepped outside and craned their necks towards the grey sky. “There are three bloody great dragons flying over Winterfell.”

~o~0~o

**Dany XV**

**Main camp outside King’s Landing (7x05 AU)**

“It is an admirable plan, to be sure,” Varys said to Daenerys. “But doesn’t smuggling food into King’s Landing rather negate the point of our blockade?”

“It might if this was any other ruler sitting on the Iron Throne,” Dany replied. “But do you honestly think Cersei will allow her limited resources to be given out to her most needy citizens?”

“She certainly has never done so even when there _were_ adequate supplies.”

“Meaning the only other alternatives here are to set the whole city alight or have it starve, because I don’t see her surrendering to me any time soon either, do you?”

“This is just going to drag things out though,” Varys said. “Is that really want you want?”

“I thought that was the whole point?” she replied. “I thought we _wanted_ her helplessly pinned in there while I ensure I have the rest of the realm’s support?”

“I’m still not at all happy about you flying to all these castles on your own though,” Tyrion said. “It’s just inviting trouble.”

“I have three dragons,” Dany replied, amused, “so am neither on my own nor defenceless and I’m not coming in as a conquering force as Aegon did. I fly in, offer a sack of food or gold - or whatever the castle needs most - and inform them that I’m taking over from Cersei. Then it’s up to them to either bend the knee immediately or continue to accept my trades.”

“Trades?” Tyrion asked, pointedly.

She shrugged. “Trades, gifts, bribes. In time, if necessary, my armies will arrive and I’ll be more forceful. Until then though I shall offer them what Cersei has not: Food, weapons, supplies and gold. The more loyalty they give me in the short term, the more help I’ll give them to survive this winter. After all, how many castles in the Seven Kingdoms can boast that they have everything they need after so many late summer battles?”

“I just feel that ...”

“So, can you do what I ask, Varys?” she said, interrupting her Hand’s upcoming complaint. “Can you have your Little Birds find out what is going on in the capital and get my messages through to those who need to know?”

“I shall make a start, My Queen,” the eunuch replied with a bow. “I believe Qyburn has taken over much of my old operation in there but am fairly confident I can … work around him.”

“Good.”

Dany paused for a moment, debating asking one further question of Varys. Asking if he had ever seen a dark door streaked with white during his time in the Red Keep. But how would she reply if he asked her for more information? And what would she say if the spy master knew of the old magic? With a heavy sigh she ignored the temptation, simply nodding at the eunuch before walking towards the supply tents and selecting a couple of sacks for her latest flight. This time she and her three dragons were to head to The Twins and the various ladies, daughters and granddaughters of Walder Frey who still lived there. From what she understood, this should be an easy ‘conquest’ and one which could be especially beneficial to her strategically.

She took off, urging Drogon on an wayward course initially, keen to check the progress of her various supply trains now heading towards those castles she had already established a dialogue with. With them went a small group of soldiers equipped with spare weapons, who had been instructed to offer their expertise if asked or camp nearby if not. She wanted her men close to the castles and ready for action but did not wish to give the impression of them being an occupying force. Tyrion was correct in saying that this ploy was a gamble, but Daenerys honestly felt it was considerably less dangerous than riding her dragons into battle first and _then_ trying to convince everyone she had their best interests at heart.

She was exceptionally proud of the plan she had come up with, even though she could only admit to herself that it was Jon who had been the reason for its conception. Her idea, true, but born of her lover’s quiet concern about how the small folk might fare during all these attacks. And, oh, how she loved him all the more for it. They would make a good team, she decided. A just, ruling, Targaryen king and queen.

Again, not something she was able to talk about with any of her advisors at this point in time.

She circled The Twins a few times with all three dragons – her usual ploy to ensure she gained everyone’s attention. That done, she chose a suitable open area close by to land with Drogon, whilst the other two continued to circle lazily overhead. A small, nervous crowd had soon gathered and Dany did nothing more than dismount and untie the clever knots which would allow the first half of her cargo to slide easily down from Drogon’s back. Then she took a few steps forwards, hands held out and raised her voice.

“I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. Rightful heir of the Iron Throne, rightful queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. The Unburnt. The Breaker of Chains. I have come to rule the Seven Kingdoms with peace, goodwill and food, rather than with an iron glove as Cersei Lannister does. Will your Lady talk with me and accept my gifts? I promise that neither I nor my dragons will harm you and yours if you do nothing to threaten me.”

This was the way she had been working for the last couple of weeks. Daring one brave soul to step forwards to meet her in Drogon’s shadow, offering a small bag of gold or food and inviting them to bring a wagon closer to transport the rest. This gift was free of any obligation, she told them, other than the promise to consider supporting House Targaryen’s claim and allow further visits from her or her vassals.

House Frey was the easiest visit yet. The elderly lady’s thin, lined face, appeared stern and suspicious initially but soon relaxed into a child-like awe as she drew closer to both Drogon and the queen.

“Your Grace,” she said, offering a surprisingly elegant curtsey. “An honour to have a real Targaryen in our midsts. My father was known for his poor hospitality but you will find us much changed in that regard. The women of House Frey welcome you within our walls and at our table. We extend to you our hospitality and protection in the light of the Seven and will honour guest rights as our father did not.” She looked up at the dragons circling overhead. “I assume that _they_ will seek their own revenge if I am not telling you the truth?”

Dany nodded. “They will.”

“But still, to come here on your own,” the lady continued. “You are truly as brave as you are beautiful, Your Grace, and we happily accept your generous supplies. Winter is starting to bite and the numerous, recent wars have cost us dearly.”

Daenerys readily accepted the lady’s hospitality and had somehow managed to establish a basic agreement with the House before the first course had even been served. The Freys were feeling especially vulnerable now that they had lost all their men although, Daenerys noted with amusement, none seemed especially sad about the fact - even viewing their mysterious ‘faceless’ visitor as divine judgement sent by the gods. With all of that in mind, they said they would welcome the queen’s soldiers to help guard this most vital of crossings and would happily ‘bend the knee’ if she could promise to both protect and feed them over the long winter.

After the meal Dany was treated to a tour of the twin castles and it was during this that she came across their Dragon Door. An oddity, she was told, seeing it appeared far older than the six hundred years that the castles had existed for.

“We have always assumed it to be some plunder from an older castle,” her host explained. “I mean, it doesn’t actually go anywhere, after all, just sits here up against a solid stone wall.”

“A south-eastern wall?” Dany suggested.

The old lady shrugged. “I suppose so.”

Daenerys moved closer, not at all concerned about how the move might appear, placing a hand on its cool surface and knowing that, in the past, she would have been able to step back to Dragonstone from here. She could only do so now if another Targaryen was there though, and her only living relation was Jon in Winterfell, and this Door would not lead there. She sighed and then frowned slightly as she thought for a moment that she _could_ feel something. Not the true warmth of being able to cross over but some sense of emotion through the wood. A hint of a whisper. As if this Door somehow remembered a time when Targaryens had been able to walk over its threshold.

“Your Grace?”

“I’m sorry, Lady Frey. It’s just … It reminds me of a door in the place where I grew up. Just some old, sentimental memories, nothing more.”

Her host laughed. “Ah, how delightful it is to hear someone as young as you are, reminiscing as if you were my age.”

~o~0~o~

The following morning Daenerys headed back out to the field to her dragons, a gaggle of young Frey girls trailing behind her, as captivated by their new queen as they were by her dragons. She talked with as many as she was able, trying to remember their names despite them all sounding so alike.

Dany had her dragons circle the castles a couple of times with the thought to return south to tell her advisors of her success here and have the promised soldiers begin their journey up. However, her thoughts quickly wandered to the discovery of the Frey Dragon Door and from there to Jon and, before she realised it, Drogon was taking her north instead, obviously interpreting her sudden longing for her lover as an instruction. She was about to correct his misunderstanding but quickly changed her mind. She still had a couple of sacks with her, after all, having planned to drop the supplies off at Riverrun and so, perhaps …

Now decided - her heart-rate picking up in anticipation - she urged Drogon to fly faster, knowing it was a fair way up to Winterfell and trying not to think too hard about this sudden change of plan. The Kingsroad was quickly discovered - despite a sudden flurry of snow - and, from there, it was easy, straight path northwards.

Towards Jon.

~o~0~o~

She saw no reason to change her pattern here, despite already having a tentative alliance with Winterfell, and so she allowed the three dragons to circle for a while, marvelling at what she saw below, trying to come to terms with the fact that she had been here and had actually walked around much of this castle. Even climbed its walls.

But no-one could know that, of course. No-one save Jon and Bran and … It was only now that Dany started to have some doubts about this impromptu visit. Would Jon be cross with her for turning up unannounced like this? Would Arya or Sansa recognise her and start asking awkward questions? Would the recent problems that Jon had mentioned mean that she would receive a poor reception here, despite their king’s relationship with her?

It was too late to change her mind now though as the castle had already been roused; the familiar sight of numerous people below, little specks like ants, scurrying around and staring up at her in awe. She landed to the south - Rhaegal and Viserion still circling above - and then dismounted, waiting.

She was here. She was actually in Winterfell. Properly. With no magic involved.

As a large group of fur-clad people came out of the main gate to greet her, her gaze fell instantly on the familiar figure in the centre who was already striding slightly ahead of the others. It seemed to Dany that the group here appeared a lot less awed than those further south and the crowd had moved close enough to mean that her first official interaction with Jon was going to have a large audience. She would have to work especially hard to pretend she had never met him.

He paused some distance from her and she took the usual step forwards, arms held out, although her speech was a little different this time around.

“I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. Rightful heir of the Iron Throne, rightful queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. The Unburnt. The Breaker of Chains. I wish to apologise for the unannounced visit. I was … nearby and so thought to come and discuss our alliance in person, seeing as your king felt unable to visit me.”

There was another pause before Jon took a step forwards. At his side, a tall, red-haired woman grabbed at his arm in warning - Sansa, she guessed from the hair colour, although it had been many years since she had last seen the girl. Jon turned to reassure her and gently pulled away. His sister would be concerned for his safety, of course, and Jon would need to remember to act as if they had only ever communicated by scroll.

He took another few steps towards her, the crowd behind also edging forwards - quiet, curious and probably distrustful - and Dany fought the sudden urge to run to him, the strange pull of their blood apparently working here even without a Dragon Door in-between.

“I am Jon Snow of House Stark,” he replied simply. “King in the North. It is good to meet Your Grace in person.” He looked over toward Drogon and then upwards and she realised that the awe she saw on his face was no act. She had almost forgotten that, for all their closeness, Jon had not yet met her children. “It seems Daenerys Targaryen knows how to make a grand entrance.”

She smiled, knowing she would have been charmed by him even if they had not met as children. The act she would need to maintain here was going to be so much harder than she had anticipated though. The pull towards him was now so tempting, the desire to run and fall into his arms overwhelming. The closer he came, the stronger the drag became. Gods how was she ever going to manage to act indifferently around him?

“Are you very cross with me?” she whispered as he stepped closer.

He shook his head, his eyes wide with a warning to continue to act the part. “No. I am pleased you are here.” He too seemed to be struggling to remain calm. “What now?”

“This is where I talk to the lord of the castle, explain what is happening in the south and offer a sack of food supplies for the chance to discuss how we can be of help to each other.”

He nodded. “We already have the start of a pact though?”

“Yes, and I am here to honour that, if the King in the North will guarantee my safety and allow me to talk with his advisors and lords?”

His eyes darkened. “I will personally kill anyone who touches a hair on your head.”

“No need for that,” she replied, surprised and more than a little turned on by his declaration, “my dragons will happily take on that task.”

“Aye,” he replied seriously. “That is something I will need to make very clear.”

“Jon!” Dany looked up to see a young woman a little smaller than herself approaching, wooden platter in hand, and gasped in recognition before quickly schooling her expression.

“Thank you, Arya. Good thinking.” Jon took the board from the girl and ushered Dany slightly closer as he sister moved back, turning to the gathered crowd and raising his voice. “I hear-by offer you bread and salt and a place at my hearth. The Starks have always and will always honour guest right, and the old gods, the new gods and the queen’s three dragons will see that promise held.” He nodded at her to eat what he offered and then turned back to his lords. “Daenerys Targaryen is my honoured guest and my future wife if these negotiations go well. If there is anyone here who objects to her presence they will speak of it now or remain silent. All of you know now the fate of any who dare to cross House Stark.”

Dany turned wide-eyed to stare at Jon, only now fully understanding how this quiet, apparently gentle man had managed to rally so many to his cause. His audience all bowed their heads, nervous and … almost fearful? Their reaction and his glower were a surprise to her and she instinctively knew that something had happened here since they had last met. Had Jon heeded her advice as she had his? Had he decided to push his authority as king?

“Then we should continue our alliance negotiations in person,” she announced to both Jon and the attentive audience. “And, if successful, I see no reason why we cannot conclude those talks tonight and join our two great Houses.”

Jon turned to her sharply. “Tonight?” he hissed.

She looked up at him, forcing herself not to smile. “Perhaps. If our families approve.”

“Our families?”

She nodded. “I should introduce you to Drogon, I think.”

His eyes travelled upwards. “Now?”

“He is bonded to me so will not harm you and your blood should help him accept you too. What do you think?” His gaze was still on her dragon and she could see the excitement and anticipation drawn clearly across his features.

“Aye,” he replied eventually.

The watching crowd gasped as Drogon moved forward on her instruction to lower his great muzzle towards Jon, and she sensed her dragon’s surprise then, his mood changing from a reluctant acceptance to play a part, to sudden, genuine curiosity about this new person. His nostrils flared as he got closer, as if Jon’s scent was of great interest to him, and then, to her surprise - and everyone else’s if the gasps behind her were anything to go by - Jon removed his glove and held out his hand, still awed and most certainly scared, but apparently determined to touch Drogon’s muzzle and fully introduce himself. Daenerys shook her head in disbelief as her son not only allowed his touch but closed his eyes and practically purred at the contact.

“I think that rather confirms it,” she said in a quiet voice that only Jon could hear. “I think Drogon knows exactly what blood flows through your veins.”

“That was brave,” Arya said as they all headed towards the castle, her own expression just as awed. “I’d love to get close too but perhaps … not quite that close?” She turned to look at Dany then and frowned. “You … you seem very familiar.”

“This is my sister, Arya,” Jon said, his tone slightly dismissive.

“It is good to meet you,” Dany said, trying hard to keep her expression neutral as she stepped forward to be introduced to the others at the front of the line. Sansa, who also frowned slightly on seeing her, before apparently dismissing the silent question with the shake of her head, and Bran who showed his usual lack of emotion when introduced. Useful in this case. Then there was an older man with a strong accent and pleasant face who Jon introduced as his advisor Ser Davos before correcting it to ‘my Hand’, mumbling something about not being entirely used to this king business yet.

They all moved back into the castle grounds then, Jon staying close by her side, gloved hand on his sword, white pommel contrasting starkly to the dark colours of the rest of his attire. He seemed nervous about her safety, despite his earlier threats, and Dany frowned as she glanced at him walking by her side, a strange memory teasing her as she tried to work out why this all felt quite so familiar. A few quiet whispers between the Starks and she was soon ushered into the Great Hall, whilst everyone else filed in behind them. Jon grabbed Davos’ arm and whispered an urgent instruction and the man frowned before scurrying off with a bow of the head. Then the queen was lead to the head table where she was flanked by Sansa on one side and Jon on the other. Bran was now being wheeled up by the maester and Arya there too, her hand also on the hilt of her slim sword. Dany still felt as if her whole body was itching though, so strong was the desire to reach out to Jon and, as she glanced right and saw his expression, she thought perhaps that he was feeling much the same way.

She accepted more bread and salt within the Hall and began her usual speech; explaining what was happening in the south and confirming her offer of food, weapons and dragonglass if Winterfell supported her claim over Cersei’s.

“I wasn’t sure if you brought any?” Jon whispered then. “So Davos is collecting that sack from the First Keep.”

She nodded and took his lead, calmly announcing the supplies as if she had brought all of it up herself. If anyone questioned it she would just say it had been transported on one of her other dragons.

“I have not demanded fealty of any House so far,” she told them. “Save from those who have actively taken up arms against me. Some of my potential allies have offered it without question, others have simply promised to continue with negotiations. I could have come to Westeros as my ancestors did with Fire and Blood, forcing your hands with the thread of death but … that is not my way. Instead I have travelled north with gifts and an offer of an alliance with your House which is far stronger than any I have negotiated so far. I therefore accept your king’s offer of a marriage alliance.” She risked a look at Jon and wished then she hadn’t; his eyes wide, lips slightly parted, seriously tempting her even with such a large audience watching on. She pulled her gaze away with some effort and continued. “Once our two Houses are joined, the Starks will be my family too and family always helps each other in times of crisis. As such, I will continue to supply you with food and weapons and will ask all my southern allies to send men north to help man the Wall.”

Next to her, she heard Jon’s breathy exhale. It was an idea she had only recently thought of and so had not been able to mention it to him before now.

“Queen Daenerys shows us that she is not here to conquer or demand fealty,” he said then. “She has offered us far more than we have promised her but I wish for that to change. As her husband I will rule alongside her, fight beside her and, when the time comes, leave Winterfell in Lady Sansa’s capable hands.”

“You will bend the knee?” someone called out.

“Only to offer myself as her husband,” he replied with a slight smile, half turning towards her but obviously also deciding to avoid the temptation of looking at her too closely. “Right now though we have far more important priorities; the Night King in the north and Cersei to the south. There is time enough for us to decide how the realm will be governed once all of that has been dealt with. Do we have your support, my lords? No actual bending of knees. No demands of us other than to offer our support to Queen Daenerys as our ally and our family? Sansa?”

His sister stood and nodded. “I agree,” she said and Arya and Bran also gave their consent. One by one the other voices were added to theirs and Dany breathed a large sigh of relief.

“Then I see no reason to delay,” she called out to the Hall. “I understand that northern weddings are simple, evening affairs so let us formalise this alliance now so I can return south tomorrow with the good news.”

“But, you have only just met,” Sansa whispered to her in surprise.

“Marriage alliances are often so arranged, are they not?” Daenerys replied with a smile. “But I heard enough good things about your brother even before my arrival and have seen nothing here today that would make me reconsider.”

“I too have no objections,” Jon said, “especially now I have heard all you have said here today and know that you are a worthy ally.”

“That and the fact you have two working eyes in your head,” Davos mumbled and Jon smiled slightly as he looked over at her adoringly.

“Aye,” he replied. “That too.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. They meet for real. Finally! 
> 
> Well, my long summer holiday is almost over and I've fairly pleased with what I've accomplished on this fic. In regard to the writing, anyway. My art work has been woeful. Most of the plot tangles which were Act 4 (but are now pushing into 5 at least) are sorted and I'm a touch further ahead than usual, meaning I can relax a bit if work kicks me in the arse over the next couple of weeks. There are still a few issues to solve regarding how this monster of a fic is going to resolve itself, the thought of which terrifies me if I dwell on it for too long, but I'm still enjoying working on 'Prince', despite that, so I'm sure it'll all sort itself out. 
> 
> I really am looking forward to sharing more of this craziness with you all. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone seems excited about this one for some reason. 

****

**Dany XVI**

**Winterfell (7x05 time-line)**

The Hall was emptying now as people left to prepare for the evening’s unexpected celebrations. Jon’s family and key advisors remained, however, huddling around the top table as they gave orders and started to make plans.

“There’s a member of _my_ family you need to meet now,” Jon whispered to Dany. “Only fair since you introduced me to Drogon.”

“Oh, your direwolf?”

He nodded and offered his arm, still mindful of the act they needed to play here although, to Dany’s surprise, he only moved her to the middle of the Hall before stopping.

“He’s on his way.”

She looked at him quizzically. “You have a bond with him too?”

“Aye. Ghost usually responds to me if he’s close.”

Daenerys knew that direwolves were large and felt she shouldn’t be surprised considering the size her own magical creatures but she was still stunned when she saw him enter; his pure white fur and red eyes appearing to glow in the gloom of the smoky Hall.

“He’s … beautiful.”

She turned awe-struck to Jon whose smile was now bright and proud. “Aye, that he is. Just hold out your hand. He responds to my thoughts about a person so you’re in no danger. In fact the bigger problem here is ensuring he acts politely in your presence.”

She held out a hand as the direwolf stalked towards her. “Oh?”

“He’ll know exactly what you are to me,” Jon whispered. “So might just give the game away if we’re not careful.”

“Hello, Ghost,” she said. The direwolf only briefly sniffed her fingers before suddenly moving forward to nuzzle at her shoulder and forcing her to adjust her stance so as not to be knocked over.

“Ghost, what did I tell you?” Jon hissed. “Stop flirting.”

Dany giggled as she tickled the direwolf behind his ear and Ghost tipped his head _so_ far to the left that it looked as if he was about to fall over. Next to her, Jon rolled his eyes.

“Well, I guess that decides it,” Sansa said as she approached them. “Ghost approves of Daenerys and your dragon likes Jon and so I’m assuming that confirms your initial thoughts on the other?”

“Aye,” Jon said, giving her that look again. “I’m guessing that you’ll want to whisk the queen away now?”

“I will,” Sansa replied with a smile, “although there won’t be very much work to do to get her ready.”

“None at all really.” Dany felt she should tell Jon off now for his lack of subtlety, so adoring was the look he turned on her then. “I will have Ghost stay with her if that’s all right, Sansa? I know everyone appears happy with this arrangement but I don’t want to take any chances.”

She nodded. “It’s a good idea and we will have Brienne with us too, of course. If you would follow me, Your Grace?”

“Daenerys, please. Seeing as we’re to be sisters.”

The red-haired girl had seemed very stern but she now smiled brightly. “Of course. This way.”

As they walked to the back of the Hall, they were joined by the most amazing woman Dany had ever since. She had thought Sansa tall until this armoured warrior came to stand by her side, a hand on the hilt of the sword as she looked down at the little queen and nodded sternly. With this lady now walking on her right and Ghost on her left, Dany felt just as safe as if she had her dragons with her.

“Well, my brother seems well and truly smitten,” Sansa continued as they started up the stairs of the Great Keep. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him look at anyone the way he does you.”

“I can’t help thinking this all seems a bit too good to be true,” Dany replied. “I knew I would need to make a marriage alliance and was prepared for … well, anything really. Despite my Hand’s positive description of him, I wasn’t really raising my hopes.” It was getting easier to fall into the role now. To pretend she really hadn’t met Jon before today.

“I was married to Tyrion Lannister, did you know?” Sansa said as they continued to make their way up.

“I heard, yes.”

“Not that it was consummated. Despite his reputation with the ladies, he was a perfect gentleman to a young, scared bride.”

“That’s good to hear. Although, if it’s not too forward, I understand that you, like me, had a less than happy experience during your next wedding night?”

Sansa nodded before turning to her with a small frown. “Oh, the Dothraki you were married too?”

“In the end I got a better deal than you, I think. Certainly Khal Drogo was not especially cruel but, still, it was anything but pleasant near the start.”

“’Cruel’ doesn’t even begin to describe Ramsey, but you have no fear on that account with Jon. He is nothing but kind, honourable and mindful of other’s feelings. If you wished to wait he would do so too, I’m sure.”

Dany shook her head, smiling. “That is good to know, but I fly back south tomorrow and this marriage needs to be legitimised before then. However I am no longer a shy, innocent and I do not imagine for a moment that tonight will be unpleasant.”

Sansa gave a quiet snort at that, obviously uncomfortable about thinking of her brother so. “The two of you suit each other very well, I think.”

They were then joined by Arya, quickly running up behind them, having taken the stairs two at a time. “Well, as you said, if both Jon and Ghost approve that I do too.” She held a hand out to Daenerys as they reached the landing. “Welcome to the family, Sister.”

Dany took it and shook it formally, working to keep her amusement hidden. “Not quite yet but soon, it’s true.”

“And I now understand why Jon has fallen so quickly in love with you.”

“In love?”

Arya nodded. “There’s no doubt about it. Only, I think that you remind him of someone he knew when we were children.”

“Ah ...” Sansa said, suddenly nodding. “Of course. _That’s_ who you reminded me of. It was really starting to annoy me.”

“Oh?” Daenerys asked.

“Yeah, pretty little girl he was friends with here,” Arya said. “She had such blonde hair that I always called her our Targaryen princess.” She stared at Dany again, shaking her head. “You really do look very much like her.”

~o~0~o~

Sansa appeared totally fascinated by Dany’s hair and was torn between tidying it after the last couple of days of riding and sleeping on it, or re-braiding it herself - and nervous about doing justice to either. The young queen reassured her that a simpler style would be fine, and perhaps even more suitable for a northern wedding, and soon she was surrounded by both sisters and a handmaiden, all of whom seemed excited about helping to untie and brush her hair. Daenerys almost laughed a little later when she looked over her shoulder to note a small audience of serving ladies and girls were now gathered outside the door to gape at both the colour and exceptional length of her hair once it had been fully untied.

“You even have Ayra entranced by girl things here,” Sansa joked. “Although she has always had a thing for Targaryens, of course, as has Jon.”

“Who doesn’t?” Arya scoffed in reply.

“Yes, but I think you’re right, Daenerys. I’ll just plait a couple of simple, northern braids to keep the hair in place but, otherwise leave it like this. Long and flowing. It will certainly cause a stir.” She tipped her head, considering. “It’ll be cold in the Godswood so that gorgeous coat should work well enough. If you want to hand it over to Mara here, she’ll brush it down for you and clean out any marks?”

As Dany took it off and passed it to the handmaiden, Sansa contemplated the grey dress she was wearing and shook her head. “My gowns won’t fit you, but I’ll see if I can find something more suitable for you to wear underneath.”

“Who will see it though?” Arya asked.

“Jon will,” Sansa replied, “so we might as well make sure he’s impressed.”

“Huh, did you see his face earlier? We could dress the queen in a potato sack and he’d be impressed.”

“Arya!”

The girl laughed. “Then again, he’s going to be far more interested in what’s underneath anyway.”

“Do you _have_ to?”

Daenerys laughed and Arya grinned at her response. “See, Daenerys doesn’t mind and that goes both ways, doesn’t it?”

“From what I’ve seen of your brother so far I can’t imagine I’ll be disappointed, no.”

Arya laughed loudly while Sansa simply rolled her eyes.

~o~0~o~

The snow was falling heavily when Dany entered the Godswood with Arya on one side and Ghost on the other. She had no family here today, save for the dragons, and they were circling above her now, making her feel perfectly happy about the situation, despite her apparent solitude here.

The ceremony was beautifully simple with Bran representing Jon and asking, “Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” and Arya replying by presenting Daenerys to him.

At first glance Jon appeared unchanged, still bundled up in his thick cloak - the white pommel of his sword contrasting starkly with the dark clothes underneath - but she could see subtle differences all the same. The hint of softer material, more grey than his usual black, and his hair less severely tied, despite being mostly hidden by the furs around his neck and now sprinkled with snowflakes. Dany had to constantly fight the urge to pull out that annoying tie and run her fingers through his hair.

She glanced at him then, seeing a similar fire sparking within his dark eyes. She had no idea this would be such a challenge. Hadn’t realised just how much their blood would sing to one another when they were truly, officially occupying the same space. Fortunately everyone here had easily accepted their instant, mutual attraction with Arya having not thought Jon being in love with her already to be surprising but, all the same, they still had a feast to attend and food was most definitely not what was on her mind right now.

“Aren’t you going to answer?” Arya hissed at her.

Dany blinked, only belatedly recalling the question that was asked of her. “I … I take this man,” she quickly replied and Jon smirked at her, knowing full well why she was so distracted.

After that, they knelt in front of the strange, white weirwood tree for a while to pray, although she was aware only of Jon, of his presence next to her and his fingers brushing hers under their cloaks. When they finally rose he wrapped a cloak around her shoulders and leant in to kiss her temple, whispering in her ear as he did so.

“I dare not kiss your lips, for I know I’ll be quite unable to stop.”

She smiled at him as they pulled apart, nodding her agreement. The feast was going to be torture she was certain.

~o~0~o~

**Jon XVI**

“I don’t much like the sound of this bedding ceremony,” Dany whispered to Jon halfway through the feast. “The Dothraki custom was worse though, I suppose but … all the same.”

He shook his head, just the thought of another man’s hands on her causing a familiar fury to ripple up inside him. “Not going to happen,” he told her. “I’ll be carrying you upstairs myself long before that.”

“Oh?” She smirked at him, biting her lower lip as she did so.

“Any moment now if you keep looking at me like that.”

She swallowed hard. “Yes please.”

Her quiet response was all the excuse Jon needed and he stood abruptly to leave, their plates of food barely touched.

“You’re excuse us, my lords and ladies," he called out, "but my wife and I have hardly had any chance to talk since she arrived here and I think it’s high time we did so.”

“Talk?” someone called out from the Hall. “Is _that_ what you wish to do, Your Grace?”

Jon tried hard to keep a straight face, simply holding his hand out to Dany and escorting her out of the Hall to a chorus of raucous cries.

“This whole day has been torture,” he told her as he lead her along a corridor and then up the stairs of the Great Keep. “You being here. _Actually_ being here is driving me crazy.”

“Yes,” Dany gasped. “I thought the pull was due to the magic of the Door but … apparently not.”

“I’ve already had to find time alone to take myself in hand a couple of times since your arrival,” he admitted.

“Aw, Jon,” she teased. “You only had to ask.”

He laughed. “No, I thought … I _knew_ I wouldn’t last more than a heartbeat otherwise but … I’m not sure it’s made much difference.” He pulled open the door and almost dragged her inside, so desperate was he to get his lips onto hers, pushing her instantly up against the nearest wall as he did so. “Gods, I need you!”

She allowed his kiss for a moment before pushing at him gently and he stepped back to allow her to unhook her amazing white and grey fur coat and reveal a slim fitting, pretty dress that wasn’t at all what he had been expecting.

“You like?” she asked.

“Is that northern?”

“Yes.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “It’ll look better on the floor I think.”

“As my husband commands,” she said with a smile, starting to untie it.

“Husband ...” He breathed out.

“Although don’t get used to being obeyed,” she told him as she stood naked in front of him. “I am not a typical wife.”

He licked his lips. “That you are not and I love you all the more for it.” He moved closer, his hands cupping her breasts and then running lower. “You want my hands or mouth on you tonight, Love?”

“I want your cock, Jon. Now!”

He chuckled and shook his head, hand already moving between her legs. “I’m not quite so desperate that I can’t wait for you to catch up.”

“Who says I need to catch up … Oh … yes!” The instant he slid a finger inside her she shuddered violently and, if he didn’t know better, he would have thought he had managed to finish her already.

“Gods, Dany! What have you been thinking about today?”

“You, my love, constantly, and I didn’t have any time to myself like you did. Take me to bed please, it’s too cold to be standing here like this, despite the brave effort of the fire.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice, lifting her up easily into his arms and carrying her towards the bed before throwing her onto it, laughing as she squeaked indignantly at his treatment of her. Then he quickly undressed and crawled on after her, ducking his head down between her legs and huffing out another laugh as her whole body shuddered yet again after he’d barely got started.

“You really didn’t need to catch up, did you?”

“Jon … please just … take me. Make me your wife.”

“You _are_ my wife,” he growled as he crawled further up the bed and knelt in-between her legs. “You’re mine and you’ve _always_ been mine from the very first moment I saw you standing in the corridor outside your chambers.”

She gasped as he pressed up against her, her eyes somehow both dark with lust and light with love at the same time.

“Do you want to play?” she asked in a high-pitched voice, repeating her first ever words to him, and the look on her face as she said it was all it took for him to loose patience, thrusting into her hard and deep, moaning her name as he claimed her.

~o~0~o~

Awareness returned to Jon slowly. The warmth of furs and skin, a deep heavy contentment and familiar, exciting scent. He blinked his eyes open to see Dany gazing at him - pupils wide, lips parted - as she stroked a stray curl from out of his face. He smiled at the sight of her.

“You’re here. You’re _really_ here.” She nodded and smiled shyly. “Did you sleep?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I woke up by your side as you just did and it felt even better than I’d imagined.”

He nodded. “I can’t believe you flew all he way up here. I can’t believe that you’re really here with me now.” He moved his hand to her cheek, rubbing his thumb against the edge of her eyebrow. “I can’t believe that you’re now my wife.”

She smiled gently. “I feel the same way. This trip wasn’t exactly planned but I’m so happy I came here. It’s just …” She sighed. “I really do wish I could stay longer, Jon, but I need to go back south today. Tryion and my other advisors will be starting to fret.” She saw the expression on his face and smiled sadly, running a finger gently along his lower lip. “I’m sorry.”

“I understand.” He leant forwards so he could kiss her, his free hand sliding down to stroke himself, keen to make himself ready for her again.

“In a little while, Jon,” she said, gently taking his wrist and pulling it back up, lacing her fingers in his. “Let’s talk first.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

She laughed. “Yes. All we’ve been able to discuss today are things that Winterfell should hear, not those things that only we can talk about.”

“The Door?” he guessed.

“The _Doors_ ,” she replied. “I visited The Twins before coming here and discovered theirs.”

That did managed to pull his attention away from her beautiful body. “Oh.”

She nodded. “Not that it’s much use unless one of us is at Dragonstone, but it did get me thinking about trying to work out where all the others are.”

“That’s a good point,” he said. “I suppose there’s no way of knowing unless one of us is actually there?”

“Even then it won’t be simple. I can fly to each castle easily enough but then you will need to be on Dragonstone. Unless I fly you there or … perhaps if you can fly Rhaegal or Viserion?”

“I … Oh ...” Jon shifted himself up onto one elbow. “Do you think I could?”

He noticed her gaze briefly move down his body before it returned to eyes. “With your blood it’s certainly possible, although not guaranteed, and you don’t exactly have much spare time to devote to developing a bond, not when all three are attached to me to a certain extent.”

“But only Drogon is truly bonded to you?”

“I think so.” She again lifted her hand to his face, this time just gently rubbing at his cheek. “As part of our new alliance, I am going to instruct my southern allies to start ferrying up men and supplies to the Wall.”

He nodded. “Thank you for that, my love.” He leant forwards and placed a gentle kiss on her lips and she sighed, one hand trailing down to his chest and sending waves of pleasure shooting through his body.

“And then, just as soon as I depart tomorrow, I want you to leave Sansa in charge of Winterfell and head up to Castle Black with the sack of dragonglass and any other supplies you need, and inform the Lord Commander of our intentions.”

He frowned. “Which are?”

“To re-man and re-equip the Wall and all of its castles.”

He nodded. “Likely to be too little, too late but, aye, it’s worth a try.”

“And when you reach Castle Black I’ll be able to step over to you from Dragonstone, of course. Uncle Aemon was sleeping in the room that housed their Dragon Door so I expect you know where that is already?”

“Assuming he didn’t move in the few years before I arrived there, yes.”

“The chances are you should feel it anyway,” she continued. “In fact I’m depending on it. If I’m close to my Door in the evening then you should feel this pull? Perhaps even more so now we’ve actually met.”

“And now we are married,” he added, struggling to focus on the conversation as he moved forward for another kiss. He was now most definitely ready for her again and, from the sly smile on her face as he pulled away, it was apparent that she knew exactly what was on his mind at that moment.

“And then I was thinking that I’ll come up to you at Castle Black to see how things stand for myself and then we can fly together to Dragonstone initially and from there to King’s Landing.”

“Fly?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure there’ll be time to get you bonded to Rhaegal or Viserion, but Drogon will definitely accept you on his back with me.”

“He will?”

“Yes,” she said. “He’s accepted others at my request but he actually likes you, whereas he only tolerates most of the other people I know.”

“He will be picking up on your feelings for me, just as Ghost does with mine?”

“Probably.”

Jon nodded. “Why King’s Landing?”

“Because I want to discover _that_ Door more than any other. I think it will be essential for our short term and long term plans, although I can’t even begin to work out what that will be until I know where it is.”

“And it won’t exactly be easy to wander around an enemy castle that large without having some idea?”

She nodded. “Another reason why I want you at Castle Black initially. I need to know whether you can find the Door for yourself, even though you’re pretty certain of its location anyway. I then want to do something similar at one of the other southern castles that I now hold.”

Jon nodded thoughtfully. “Do we have time for this?”

“We should do, especially if we can both move quickly from place to place on dragon back.”

There was still so much to do here to prepare their defences but, Dany was right, he realised. Sansa, Bran and Arya between them were more than capable of continuing the preparations here - never mind all the other lords and artisans and soldiers - and, at least by sending him north, she was allowing him to continue to focus on the northern attack to a certain extent. He nodded.

“As my queen commands.”

She smiled. “Ah, I like that. Earlier I enjoyed obeying my husband. Now perhaps it’s time for your queen to be in charge?”

“Hmm, what would you ask of me, Your Grace?” he replied, licking his lips.

“Well, I’ve a lot of riding ahead of me so perhaps you could start with some more of that wonderful massaging.”

“Of course,” he said, immediately sitting up as she rolled onto her front, “Let’s not rush things this time though. I want to savour every inch of your body now we are to be parted again.”

“It’ll give you an incentive to hurry north,” she said as he started to push his fingers against her shoulder blades, straddling her again and rubbing himself suggestively against her rear as he leant down to press soft kisses along her spine. “Hmm, what an interesting way to massage those particular muscles for me, Jon,” she teased.

“Hmm,” he replied, “this is going to be more challenging than I thought. So soft, so beautiful, just lying under me all tempting.” He groaned. “I really, _really_ want you now, wife.”

“Once you’ve finished unknotting me you can have a go at undoing me, husband, but not yet. Be patient.”

Jon groaned again, pressing himself up against her rear, his mind already imagining how it would feel to be inside her again. Dany gasped and wriggled under him, opening her legs a little. and he took full advantage, pushing himself in between her thighs, gasping as she first allowed him past and then pressed her legs together to hold him captive. Jon lost all patience then, moving his hands from her shoulders to her waist and hauling her up onto her knees. He then started to rub against her beautiful curves, hands stroking her arse, meaning to take her from behind, but she quickly wriggled free, kneeling up to face him.

“Are you disobeying your queen again?”

“Blame my wife, Your Grace,” he replied promptly. “She is just so beautiful that I can’t keep my head straight when I’m around you.” He sighed as he took in the sight in front of him, Dany kneeling up on the bed; her lips, her breasts, her stomach and between her legs, licking his lips as he debated which to taste first. She grinned, obviously reading his thoughts again, lying on her back and opening her legs for him.

“You haven’t finished massaging me yet, remember? You know how tight these particular muscles get?”

He nodded, walking forward on his knees until he was settled between her legs, alternately rubbing her inner thighs and then stroking higher up, bending down to add his lips to the mix until they both abandoned the pretence and allowed him to send her over the edge.

She cried his name loudly as she finished and then laughed as he looked nervously over towards the door.

“It doesn’t matter now, remember? Don’t you want everyone to know just how thoroughly we’re consummating our marriage?”

“Not especially,” he retorted with a glower. “You’re mine and mine alone. Only _I_ get to know what a dragon you are in bed.”

She laughed. “Oh, how I do love you, Jon Snow ...” She paused, frowning. “… Targaryen now, I suppose. In more ways than one?”

“It doesn’t matter.” As much as he’d grown up hating the name, it now felt odd to abandon it. Mostly he just wanted to avoid the subject altogether. Especially _right_ now. He moved back under the covers then, rearranging the pillows so he could sit upright and then pulling the furs around them. “Come sit on my lap, Wife. I want you close.”

Fortunately, Dany was obviously no longer in the mood to tease, moving to straddle him in that position and lowering herself onto him so quickly he hardly had any time to prepare for the sensation.

“You feel so good inside me,” she gasped as she wriggled in delight, whilst Jon held her hips firmly, both to give him a chance to collect himself and to savour the sensation – memorise it for when they would be parted tomorrow.

“Stay still for a bit. Let me look in your eyes while we joined like this. Let me see exactly what it is I do to you.”

She gasped, fidgeting a little and squeezing him tightly as he moved a hand to her face, just his gaze and quiet, adoring words apparently enough to have her insides react. He moved a hand down between them, gently caressing her whilst he tried to hold her still with the other.

“Jon … please ...”

He gave into her plea, moving forward to kiss her hard, relaxing his hold on her so she had more freedom to move. He had loved it when she rode him lying on his back, but quickly decided that this position was even better, allowing him to keep kissing her tenderly, despite what else they were now getting up to.

“Faster, Love,” he urged. “Harder,” and she obliged, lifting his hands up to her shoulders so she could wriggle even closer, her hands now on his face as they sat nose to nose, breathing each other’s warm air as they got closer to their end.

Jon was talking nonsense now, he was sure. Praising her beauty, her skill, declaring his love and his lust for her in a way he rarely did outside the bed-chambers, almost crying by the time he finally spilled inside her. She was emotional too, sniffling a bit as she rested her head on his shoulder and nibbled at his neck.

“Let’s sleep,” she whispered. “I want to wake up next to you again.”

“I long for the time I’m able to wake up next to you _every_ day,” he told her as they both lay down. “I want to lock you away with me for a week ... a month. Just you and me in bed. Sod the Iron Throne, the Seven Kingdoms _and_ the Night King.”

“Hmm,” she replied as she nuzzled up against his neck and pressed her bare hips against his – obviously savouring the fact he now had no need to shuffle back into his trousers. “When all of this is done I will hold you to that.”

“Sleep well and deeply, my wife,” Jon said, kissing he top of her head, “but not for too long. I’ll want to have you at least once more before you fly away from me.”

“My beautiful husband,” she mumbled sleepily. “As hungry as a wolf and as insatiable as a dragon. And all mine until the dawn.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a really tough week. Back to work whilst still fighting a cold and with poor sleep. So, no new writing done recently but this is the reason I force myself to stay ahead. I'd be even more stressed otherwise. Anyway, I've put work to one side for today and tomorrow though and really hope to get some new writing and proper editing done.
> 
> Thanks for the continuing love on this one. It certainly helps to know how much you're all enjoying it. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Jon XVII**

**Winterfell (7x05 AU)**

The days were growing shorter, the sky now only light for a few hours and even then it was hard to tell the difference, especially when the snow clouds were dense. Jon had always had a good sense of the true time, however, and knew that the day was about to start, despite the total darkness here in these chambers. His stomach growled loudly, reminding him he had barely eaten at his wedding feast the night before.

His wife was snuggled up against his back and must have sensed him waking because her hand moved from where it was gently resting on his thigh to take a hold of him, already hard and ready for her again.

“Hmm,” she mumbled, stroking him lazily. “Such a nice way to wake up.”

He groaned. “In a bit, my love. First let me get us some food.”

“The servants will bring some up, won’t they?”

“Not for another hour or so and I really can’t wait that long.”

“Serves you right for not letting us finish our supper last night, doesn’t it? That and all that energy you expended when you should have been sleeping.”

“And you’re _not_ hungry?”

Dany groaned, wriggling up against him. “ _So_ hungry, but not just for food.”

He chuckled, pulling away from her to check where his clothes were so he could dive for them, cursing as the cold bit at his naked skin as he scrambled to dress. He quickly stoked the dying fire before he left, adding another small log and hoping the chambers would be warmer by the time he returned.

It was perhaps even earlier than he’d guessed, the corridors dark and deserted with only a couple of sleepy servants making their way around to light and replace the candles in the wall sconces. Jon headed down the spiral stairs toward the Great Hall, wondering if there would be food there yet or whether he would need to head over to the kitchens as he often had as a child. Fortunately there was still some left overs from the previous night and all perfectly fresh considering how cold it was here now. So, he grabbed a couple of platters and strolled around the tables, selecting a few choice items to take back upstairs whilst also grabbing a few bites as he went.

“Don’t you have somewhere better to be right now?” Davos asked as he walked into the Hall soon afterwards.

“I could say the same of you,” Jon replied.

“Old bones need less sleep and I don’t have a beautiful new wife in my bed or I assure you I wouldn’t be down here this early.”

Jon smiled. “We were hungry.”

“Huh, I noticed food wasn’t of much interest to either of you at the feast last night.”

He grinned sheepishly and chose not to answer, filling a couple of goblets and balancing them on the platters, holding them both experimentally to ensure they all made it upstairs in one piece.

“I take it the soppy smile on your face and your general dishevelled appearance means you are not especially displeased by this arranged, political marriage?”

Jon thought perhaps he should be discouraging this line of questioning but found himself replying before he could stop himself. “I just can’t believe how lucky I am, Davos. She is … incredible. In every way.”

“But she has to leave today?”

He sighed. “Aye.”

“Well then, I won’t delay you any longer. You still have a little time before that?”

Jon nodded and lifted the platters again, concentrating as he headed back the way he came.

Dany was fast asleep when he re-entered the chambers and he moved quietly to put her plate on the table next to her side of the bed before placing his own down on his. He then worked the fire a little more meticulously before quickly stripping and getting back into bed. She was curled up facing him now and it was all Jon could do to not to touch her, choosing instead to gaze at her whilst he ate and drank a little and the fire crackled back to life. Finally he leant forward to kiss her, knowing she’d tell him off if he let her sleep for much longer.

“Dany, love. Food for you.”

She blinked her eyes open slowly, her face breaking into a beautiful smile as she focused on him, her pupils very obviously widening.

“Yes, you look delicious.”

He laughed. “Not what I meant. There, on your table.”

She smiled and stretched, the action causing Jon’s body to react instantly. “You got the fire going,” she remarked, sitting up and allowing the furs to drop down to her waist. “It’s not too cold in here now.”

She turned to tuck into some of the food but Jon was now frozen in place, a piece of bread halfway towards his mouth, unable to stop staring at her beautiful breasts, despite how many times he had now seen them.

“Eat,” she ordered him, smirking as she caught him staring. “You’re going to need your strength in a little while.”

“Oh?” he teased, taking a bite.

“Yes,” she replied. “Making a few plans right now, in fact.”

She got up then, putting on a nightdress and padding around behind the screen to wash up, and Jon returned to finishing his food and drink before going to his own basin. Dany was standing by the fire next to his side of the bed when he returned, still wearing her nightdress, hugging herself a little to stay warm.

“Strip and get under those furs, Love,” he said as he came close. “I’ll warm you up.”

“No, I told you. I have plans.”

“Which are?”

“I was very cruel to you last night, Jon. I know what you wanted when you were massaging me earlier and I stopped you so … I really should be punished for denying you.” And she turned away from him and lifted her nightdress up to her waist, bending over the bed whilst her feet remained on the floor, revealing the perfect curves of her beautiful arse to him.

“Gods,” he whispered, moving forward to stroke and squeeze, continuing from where he had left off earlier, massaging the muscles as she gasped and opened her legs a little.

“Aren’t you going to spank me?”

“Maybe some other time,” he replied, quickly lowering his trousers. “Right now I have other thoughts about what to do with ... this. Up on the bed, Love, I can’t quite reach you down there.” She did as he bid, both of them making the adjustments needed until she was in the right position for him to enter her from behind. As desperate as they both were, they also found humour in their various attempts to get serious and Dany often shifted her position which would cause Jon to loose his rhythm and he even gave her a playful smack once or twice, despite his earlier refusal to do so.

Once she was finally settled and comfortable, Jon set a harder pace, loving the way she felt around him in this position, sliding a hand underneath to bring her along with him, gasping as her muscles clenched and she groaned out his name. There was something beautifully base and dirty about having her this way around and, although a part of him loved it, Jon decided that he didn’t want this to be his last memory of her until their next time. So, despite being close to finishing, he pulled out and pushed her roughly onto her back, opening her legs indecently wide before plunging back inside, wincing just slightly as she shouted his name, knowing the corridors outside would be far busier now and still self-conscious about having everyone nearby know exactly what was going on in here, despite their very public marriage.

He tried to ignore that though, adjusting her legs even higher, hands on either side of her face as he also finished, trying his best to keep quiet but knowing that he too had failed.

She laughed as he collapsed on top of her, breathing hard, her hands threading through his damp hair.

“You’re amazing, you know that, right?”

“No, that’s all you,” he replied. “You bring out the best ... and the worst in me.”

“I see no ‘worst’. You are and always have been simply too good to be true.”

He shook his head, knowing she now knew everything he had done; the good _and_ the bad. “I don’t want to leave this bed. I don’t want to leave you. I know you have to go but ...”

“I know.” Her hands were still threaded in his hair - gently caressing - and it was a struggle not to fall asleep where he was now lying on top of her, the lack of sleep over the last couple of weeks now catching up on him, as well as the exhaustion from this amazing night and morning. “But I think now it’s well past time I got up and started to get ready.”

Jon sighed loudly, hauling himself up so that he could kiss her on the lips, slow and languorous, fighting the tears that were starting to sting his eyes.

“We should say our proper goodbyes here then,” he suggested. “Despite our marriage, I still think we should maintain a certain distance in public?”

She nodded sadly, kissing him just once more before he rolled out of bed to dress and find a handmaiden to assist his wife with her morning routine.

~o~0~o~

**Dany XVII**

**Winterfell (7x05 AU)**

Daenerys felt tired, sore and uncharacteristically emotional as she left her assigned chambers that morning. A state made even worse by finding Jon waiting outside to offer his arm before escorting her to a short breakfast meeting with Sansa, Bran, Arya and Davos.

Afterwards they all headed out to where Drogon was waiting beyond the castle walls. It was still early, only the faintest hint of murky, grey light showing through the snow clouds, and yet quite a crowd had gathered and Dany remembered her earlier talk with Jon about how they should act and began to question it. Might it not be better for everyone here to see the affection they held for one another? Even considering the likely rumours now circulating about how much the couple had obviously enjoyed their ‘first’ night together.

They walked towards Dragon arm in arm whist everyone else held back, Jon being the only one her dragon was likely to trust. Her son lowered his large head down towards them both, curiosity and concern radiating from him and Jon winced.

“How much would he have sensed of last night?” he asked her. “Will he be cross with me now for how I treated his mother?”

Jon’s worry managed to force a smile from her. “If he sensed anything of that he will know how _well_ she was treated. Right now he’s more concerned that you’re not coming with us because he can tell that makes me sad.”

Her husband’s hand was on her cheek, all thoughts of their earlier promise gone, before he remembered the audience and his eyes widened. “Sorry.”

She shook her head. “I don’t care about that, Jon. Kiss me please. Kiss your wife long and hard and leave your people in no doubt about the strength of our new alliance.”

He did as she bid; gloved hand on her cheek, lips meeting hers, open warm and tender, and tempting her to turn around and drag him straight back into bed. She expected a similar raucous reaction from the audience as they’d received last night, but those watching were eerily quiet as they parted, either sensing that this was not the time for levity or perhaps even embarrassed at having to witness something so painfully intimate. Either way Dany decided that putting the departure off further was just increasing their pain and quickly turned away to mount Drogon, catching one last view of Jon as they took flight. A dark, lonely figure standing in the snow with his cloak billowing dramatically. Stoically unmoving despite the strong downdraught of Drogon’s mighty wings.

~o~0~o~

**King’s Landing Camp**

“Where have you been?” Tyrion asked, walking as fast as his short legs could carry him towards her as Daenerys dismounted Drogon. “We expected you back yesterday.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” She waited until Varys and Missandei had also joined them. “There was a change of plan.”

“Oh?” Varys asked.

“It all went well at The Twins,” she began brightly, hoping to relax them a little with the less controversial news. “Remarkably well, in fact. Lady Frey has bent the knee and asks for as many soldiers as we can spare.”

“That’s … good.” Tyrion seemed surprised at first but was soon nodding. “But I can see how that would have worked out for them. The crossing is of great import and having you on board and so quickly able to fly to their aid would have been an appealing prospect.”

“That and the fact that Cersei had been ignoring all their requests for help, even before our conflict had fully started.”

“So, if there were no problems there, why the delay?” Varys asked.

“I decided to … fly north to Winterfell and discuss the alliance plans with the Starks in person.”

All three of her advisors turned to stare at her. “Was that wise, your Grace?” Tyrion asked.

“I thought it safer than my other ventures, in fact, seeing we had already initiated a dialogue with them.”

“But still,” Varys said, “The northmen can be extremely fickle and my Little Birds tell me there has been some dissent up there recently.”

She huffed out a laugh. “There was, but Jon soon dealt with that and now has everyone’s full support.”

“Jon … is it?” Tyrion asked, all three of them looking at her curiously.

She took a deep breath. “Seeing I was already there and was so well received, I competed negotiations with the Northmen by marrying their king.”

They were all gaping at her. “You married him! After knowing him for … an hour? Less?”

“Such a thing is not uncommon in political marriages,” she replied, continuing to try not to catch anyone’s eye as she stared at the map on the table in the tent, pretending to be thinking strategy. “And my impressions of Jon only confirmed your own thoughts, Tyrion. That and the fact that Drogon seemed to like him.”

“Would it not have been better to have waited and had a southern ceremony?” Varys suggested.

“We will do that too, of course,” Dany replied. “A proper, large, extravagant affair. Preferably after all of these annoying issues have been dealt with. For the northerners though, I thought it made sense for them to understand that I was now to be their family and not their conqueror.” She risked looking up at their surprised faces and tried not to laugh at just how many questions she could see hovering in the air between them.

“I thought we still had issues to deal with regarding that alliance,” Tyrion managed eventually. “Matters such as the realm’s reaction to such a union and other not unimportant details about how all of that equated to the hold the north might have on us?”

“I shall relate all I discussed with the Starks shortly,” she said. “I have papers with me, of course, but, to be honest, most of the southern issues have been left fairly open. After all, Winterfell is far more concerned about the Night King threat and they are all genuinely grateful that I’m dealing with Cersei for them.” She groaned then, tired and sore and not able to focus on any of that right now. “I’ll take a short break if you don’t mind, My lords? Then we’ll talk more about all of this ...” She gestured to the map, “… and start sending troops north with instructions and weapons.”

The two men exchanged a brief look before nodding. “As you say, Your Grace,” Varys replied and Dany quickly left the pavilion before the pair could think of any more complaints, closely followed by Missandei.

“You were very quiet in there,” Dany observed.

“I … it was all a bit of a shock to me, if I can be honest?”

“Always.”

“It’s just … perhaps …” There was a pause. “I would have very much liked to have attended your wedding.”

Daenerys turned to the young advisor, suddenly understanding that the move had upset her in a way that hadn’t even occurred to her until that moment.

“It was just for the politics of the thing and the northern wedding is so short and simple anyway. I promise that you will be my most honoured guest at the official one.”

She nodded. “I should not have spoken out of turn.”

“You didn’t.” Dany turned to the girl once they’d reached her pavilion, taking both her hands. “The idea just came to me on a whim and then … when I arrived and met the Starks … well I decided it was the right thing to do.”

“And your husband, Your Grace?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.

Dany was unable to prevent the smile that bloomed across her face then. “Just as pretty as Lord Tyrion said, with a warrior’s body and a tongue as skilled as Grey Worm’s.”

Missandei giggled and flushed prettily. “You do seem rather … tired this afternoon.”

“Exhausted,” she replied, giving a cheeky smile in return. “I admit that I’m looking forward to returning to him just as soon as possible.”

“And … your lover?” she asked cautiously.

“I haven’t forgotten my promise to tell you more about that,” Dany replied simply, “and I shall ... once we are back at Dragonstone. For now though I will just say that there is something very special about Jon Snow and I think I might already be a little in love with him.” A serious understatement, of course, but she needed her friend to understand that this was something very much more to her. “I think I am going to enjoy being married to him … assuming we can find time for any sort of life before or after these conflicts.”

Missandei sighed loudly. “Yes.”

Dany looked up then, nodding, taking her hands again. “It won’t be much longer, I promise. Once Grey Worm has everything under control in the west I’ll be bringing him back here, where he is of more use.”

She smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”

Dany nodded. “I’m going to try and sleep for a while now. Will you bring me some food, my dearest? I think then I’ll be more able to focus on this meeting I’m going to have to have. No doubt Tyrion and Varys will continue to scold me like a naughty child. Anyone would think that they were the kings here and I the unruly advisor.”

She closed her eyes immediately, hearing Missandei faint giggle as she left, before quickly falling asleep and dreaming of her beautiful husband.

~o~0~o~

In the end it seemed as if her hasty marriage had been reluctantly accepted by her council. At least there were far more urgent things to deal with right now than vague concerns about how the Seven Kingdoms _might_ be governed after all the fights were over. Eyebrows were certain raised when Daenerys told them of her promise to send men and weapons to the Wall, but she now had some control of the vast majority of the Realm, and even those houses who were reluctant to give her troops to fight Cersei should be willing to assist the north, especially those around The Neck who would have a slightly better understanding of the issues that Winterfell was facing.

For the next few days Daenerys continued to fly to and from her southern camp, visiting various castles and wagon trains, before returning to discuss all the movements of soldiers, people, cattle and supplies that were required. In addition, Varys was having some limited success infiltrating King’s Landing and bringing information out to her, doing his best to have his Little Birds work around Qyburn’s, whilst also attempting to second-guess Queen Cersei’s plans now she was effectively trapped and impotent.

“Jaime survived our attack, apparently,” Tyrion told her during their next meeting. “Varys says he’s back with Cersei now which does worry me, I admit. My brother was always a lot easier to deal with when my sister didn’t have her claws in him.”

“Any thoughts?” she asked him.

“A trip into King’s Landing perhaps? If I can meet with my brother it might be possible to negotiate with him? It’s likely he’s the only one Cersei will listen to now.”

“Although, from what you told me, you no longer have his trust in the way you used to and I can’t see there’s much point risking your safety until we have more information.” She nodded, thinking. “I do have my own plans for King’s Landing, as it happens, but I’m going to need a little more time before I can make a start on that. Perhaps when I am ready we can put your plan into action at the same time? Hopefully it won’t be more than a month or so and things could well have changed before then.”

~o~0~o~

**Dragonstone**

The work spent on organising all of their troops and information seemed never ending but it wasn’t long before Daenerys felt she had it under some sort of control. At that point she decided to take full advantage of her unique transportation and base herself on Dragonstone for a while, using her new alliance with Winterfell and her need to oversee the mining operation as the excuse for her decision. Fortunately Drogon allowed Missandei to fly with his mother and so the queen would now be able to fully enjoy the comforts of the castle during the evenings and nights and fly down to King’s Landing in the morning.

On her first day back home she checked in with the miners, still quietly working to produce dragonglass and create some basic weapons. She instructed them to start filling up sacks for transportation; some to go on ships bound for Eastwatch by the Sea and White Harbor, and others set aside for Dany to transport on Drogon the next time she decided to fly north. For good measure the queen had a couple of additional bags taken to the old wing to pass through, sorely tempted to bring Missandei down to explain the magic there as promised, but knowing it would be best to wait until she actually had something to show her. Unfortunately, at the moment, all the Dragon Doors were cold and unyielding, with Jon now somewhere on the road between Winterfell and Castle Black and too far away from either for the Doors to work.

At least she now knew why their Winterfell Door had so often appeared locked to her as a child, Jon having explained how he had regularly left the castle as a boy to hunt or to join Lord Stark on trips to neighbouring lords’ holdfasts. During those times, he had been too far away for the Door to work for her whereas he, of course, had never had a problem, as Dany had rarely been allowed to leave this wing, never-mind the castle itself. It was only when she had finally left Dragonstone for Essos that Jon had experienced that issue for himself and been unable to step through.

Dany sighed deeply, resting a hand on the surface of the Door in the corridor, understanding she would feel nothing, but realising the coldness hurt her more now than when she had been a child. She ambled sadly through to the living room to do the same with the Castle Black Door, knowing that, one day soon, it would begin to feel warm and she would then be able to step through to be with Jon again. She fought the tears now threatening, telling herself off for being a silly girl when she was in reality a queen with far too much to do to be pining over a boy – no matter how special he was to her.

The other thing the pair of them now suspected was that the distance they could sense each other through the Door had grown over the years, with the magic initially only working when they were both close to it, and then later extending a little so they were able to sense each other when further apart - like the time Jon had stepped through and seen her ship sailing away from the island. He had told her the story of how the magic had dragged him back to Winter Town - east of the castle walls - whilst he was still awake, and Dany decided that now would be the perfect time to think more about this, working on a new sketch of this castle’s layout and jotting down notes of Jon’s tale, thinking about the various directions involved. She had felt a strange excitement when he had told her about his adventure, as if the information was important somehow, even though she had no idea what use it could possibly be to them.

Dany continued to walk from door to door during the next few evenings, seeing if she could sense which one Jon was closest to, even if he was too far away to allow her to step through quite yet. She felt that she was getting more of a reaction from Winterfell but, as the days passed, the sensation didn’t change, which probably meant there was something else going on here. Perhaps it was simply because that Door was far more familiar to her?

And then, finally, she felt it. A small, faint warmth in the Castle Black Door - quite unlike the unusual sensations she’d been experiencing recently in the Wintefell one - which soon became strong enough to allow her through to a cold, neglected chamber in the dead of night. Excited, Dany ran upstairs to fetch Missandei, keen to explain something of her secret to her friend, and confident that the room was abandoned and perfectly safe for the demonstration.

“It is time I explained my obsession for this place,” she began as the pair walked down the corridor, and the girl nodded seriously, quietly waiting. “It is rather more than sentimentality for my lost youth you see.”

“And I get the feeling it is not about some secret lover either.”

“Not entirely.” She took a deep breath. “Have you noticed these dark doors? The ones in the corridor and the others in all the rooms in this wing?”

Missandei nodded. “They do not open. It is most odd.”

“I would like you try this one anyway,” Dany said, indicating the Winterfell Door.

The girl frowned but did as she was bid. “Very well.” She twisted the ring and pulled, then pushed, using a bit more strength each time before shaking her head.

“How does it feel to you?” the queen asked.

“Just like wood,” the girl replied, confused.

“Not hot or cold?” Missandei placed her palm on it and shook her head again. “Very well. Now for the one in here. I want you to see if there is any difference at all for you.”

The girl repeated it on the Castle Black Door before declaring that it felt exactly the same.

“These doors are magic,” Dany explained. “I cannot tell you more than that, I’m afraid, but I will say that certain people can open them and step through to other places and that I am one of those people.”

Missandei frowned but appeared to be taking the idea seriously, knowing her queen was not one to make up fanciful stories. “Truly?”

She nodded and took hold of the Door, turning the hoop and pushing, allowing it to swing open and reveal the cold darkness of the chamber beyond. Behind her Missandei gasped.

“The door has vanished!”

Dany nodded, having known from Bran’s experience what her friend would see. “And now you can only see a stone wall?”

“Yes.” Missandei blinked. “What can _you_ see then?”

“A small chamber on the other side. It’s a passage way, you see. Leading to another castle. The one in the corridor leads to Winterfell, and I used to step through there regularly as a child.”

“Winterfell?”

“Yes. I knew of Jon Snow long before we were married. He was the childhood friend I casually mentioned to you in the past?”

“Your first love,” Missandei said, nodding and perhaps now understanding why Daenerys had always been so vague when pushed for more details. “So, he’s been your secret lover all along?” She blinked, as if trying to work that out. “I … I’m not sure I entirely understand, Your Grace, but it certainly makes more sense than most of the other guesses I have been making recently.”

Dany laughed gently, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders now her friend knew the truth. “One more demonstration if you’re up for it?” She grinned. “Perhaps you’d better sit down for this?”

Missandei’s eyes grew wide as she nodded and perched elegantly on the nearest chair. Dany then gave her a reassuring smile and took a step forward into the severe chill of the dark, frozen chamber over a thousand leagues further north.

She returned just a few heart-beats later, shivering violently and rushing over to the fire as she shut the door behind her.

“You disappeared,” Missandei said, her voice quiet. “The wall turned to mist and then … you were gone.”

Dany nodded. “I sent Jon to Castle Black and he’s almost there now. That means this Door now works for me and I will be able to see him again very soon.”

“Y-you did not need to show me this,” Missandei stuttered. “Thank you.”

“I know I can trust you with the secret.”

“Of course. Who would believe me anyway?”

“Grey Worm might?”

Missandei nodded. “I can promise to keep it from him too.” Then she frowned. “You cannot tell me how it is that both you and Jon Snow come to have this magic?”

“I cannot. It would mean revealing a secret which is not mine to divulge.”

She nodded. “And when will he arrive?”

“It hard to be certain but it won't be long now,” Dany replied. “I think perhaps tomorrow I shall finally be reunited with my husband.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Act 1 raised and posed a whole bunch of questions, many of which were left unanswered as we moved back to focus on the canon plot. Here you start seeing them either being explained or set up to be explained, and the next chapter and Act 4 will finally answer a few more. If you've some free time, you might like to re-read part 1 and see how much clearer some of these Door story lines are now - such as why Dany thought the Door was often locked, when it was really Jon going off hunting and moving too far away from it.
> 
> Also I have _finally_ managed to draw a neater version of the larger map and have put it on chapter 9 in place of the scribbled, rough copy, as well as on here. I'm not entirely happy with the accuracy of the directions but I'm assuming that's only really going to bother me. At the moment you can see that only the Doors that Jon  & Dany know about have been named. I have other copies of this which have more of them labelled and will share those versions when we get to the relevant points in Act 4.
> 
> Oh, yes, ACT 4! You remember the picture I posted of the cat tied up in wool? You will soon start to see why that one has had me in knots for so long.  My Instagram follows will have also seen Robbie's version of that this week! 
> 
> Also, I think this has just become my longest GOT fanfiction! 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch out for the even numbers! 18, 20, 22 & 24 all have endings! Sorry. 

**Dany XVIII**

**Dragonstone (7x06 AU)**

Daenerys paced the living room impatiently, already aware of the strong pull towards the Castle Black Door, even when she was several paces away from it. She would not go through now though, not until Jon had concluded his business up there and not until he had tried to discover the Dragon Door from his side. She almost wished now that she had not told him of its location, just so the theory could be properly tested.

Being able to wait for him here was a novel experience though and, despite already sensing him through the Door, Dany was surprised at the change she felt when he was about to cross over; a sudden rush of sensation which was almost audible and made her catch her breath. She stood abruptly, turning in that direction - mouth open in surprise - just as the Door swung towards her and Jon strode in, followed by a blast of exceptionally cold air.

“Dany, I-”

He had barely made it through when she was upon him, arms over his shoulders and legs wrapped around his waist as he lifted her and spun her around. He laughed at her enthusiastic reaction, shifting her weight as their lips met, the move putting them in a most interesting position. Dany wiggled in delight as their hips pressed together and she felt how hard Jon was for her already; his laugh turning into a groan as he quickly turned to kick the Door closed. Then he pushed her back up against it, one hand moving down to support her rear, the other running up her bare leg under her nightdress, trying to find its way in-between them.

“Jon ...” The next wriggle was a silent request to put her down but only for long enough to untie and lower his trousers before inviting him to raise her up again.

“You’re not ready,” he complained.

“I am,” she disagreed. “I’m _always_ ready for you. Take me against this Door, Jon. Take me hard and fast and let’s mark it as our own.”

He growled in response to her demand, hoisting her back up and slamming her against the dark wood before plunging into her, whilst she yanked out his tie and grabbed a handful of dark curls.

“What have I told you about that?” he warned her.

“I’m not sorry,” she gasped. “I _love_ your hair. Punish me for it if you want.”

His response was to lift her even higher, move even closer and thrust even harder and the last one as he finished, had so much force behind it that the Door creaked open and Dany felt herself falling backwards. Her cry of blissful delight turned to a worried squeak, until Jon’s warrior instincts took over and he somehow managed to turn them mid-descent so that she fell on top of him instead.

“Jon!” she gasped as he landed on his back with a grunt.

There was a worrying pause before he suddenly burst out laughing and Dany soon joined in just as soon as she had reassured herself that he had come to no real harm.

“How did that happen?” he asked. “There’s no-one on the other side of the Door.”

“No, but it opened for you so you could return, and my blood allowed me to come through with you.” She shuddered. “Gods, it’s _so_ cold up here. Let’s go back south.”

“Gladly.”

They scrambled up and back through to the living room at Dragonstone - Jon fighting to put his trousers back on, Dany lowering her nightdress - both dashing over to the fire and collapsing onto the floor in front of it, still laughing at the absurdity of what had just happened.

“I remember now,” Jon said. “Those times as children when you’d return to Dragonstone and drag me along with you. Always felt really weird. Even more so than when I walked through by myself.”

She nodded. “It did. I remember that too, in hindsight. It’s what we’ve said before though. When we come through the door, we are tethered to the place we’re really at - like there’s an invisible rope constantly trying to pull us back. Then, as soon as we move too far away of fall asleep, we’re always quickly snapped back.”

He nodded. “And when we were young, we didn’t have the strength or the experience to pull at it very much, which is why we always felt the need to stay close. Only later could we move further – you as far as the kitchens and me as far as that platform to watch you sail away.”

“It makes so much sense now.” They made themselves more comfortable; Jon sitting closer to the fire with his knees to his chest and Dany edging sideways so she could lean her head on his shoulder. “And I confirmed your earlier suspicion about the day I sailed away, Jon. The platform you watched the ship from _does_ sit due east of the Door here at Dragonstone, which means you were returned home at exactly the same distance and direction from the Winterfell Door.”

“In the middle of Winter Town.” He nodded. “That’s really interesting.”

“And you had no problem sensing me at Castle Black today?”

“None at all. I didn’t even need to know where it was beforehand as I could feel the pull starting just as soon as the castle was in sight. Again, I doubt that I would have felt it from that far away when we were children but now … with us more experienced and probably, as you said, having met for real.”

Dany sighed, lifting her head towards him, the earlier, desperate passion now eased enough for her to enjoy a soft, gentle kiss with her husband.

“I’ve been sensing you for the last day too,” she said once they had parted. “Even without touching the Door. I’ve been testing both since you left. Trying to see if I could work out how far you had travelled.”

“And?”

“There was definitely something stronger about the Winterfell Door, even when you had nearly arrived here, so I still think we’re missing something.”

He nodded. “I remember thinking I could sense you through the Door just moments before you arrived over Winterfell on Drogon. I’d forgotten about that until now. At the time I was quite certain that you were heading back to Dragonstone but … obviously you couldn’t have been.”

“I know we have our own conflicts to deal with, Jon but I really think we need to make time for this. I think we should try to travel to as many castles as possible and see if we can solve these mysteries. I need to know what we can do. What the Doors can do. I just have a feeling that it will be important to both of us and our future battles.”

He nodded. “As long as you can fly me back up here quickly if there’s a problem?”

“Of course. Just let me know when you’ve got things under control at Castle Black and I’ll come up there and fly you south.”

He sighed, happily. “This is nice. Against the Door just now was great but ...”

She nodded. “It wasn’t the same, was it?”

“No,” he agreed. “This was all we had ever known but … having you for real in Winterfell? That was a whole different level of sensations.”

“Although, just now was exciting in its own way,” she joked.

“Aye,” Jon replied, laughing. “Definitely won’t be trying that again for a while. Let’s get you into bed, my wife. I think I’d like to fuck you on something that doesn’t move this time.”

She laughed brightly, standing up and offering her hand to him. “Gladly, my husband.”

~o~0~o~

**Jon XVIII**

**Dragonstone (7x06 AU)**

“It’s getting easier, I think,” Jon said as she snuggled up against his shoulder in her bed afterwards. “I am feeling tired but it’s nowhere near as bad as it used to be. That exhaustion that had us falling asleep almost immediately appears to have gone now.”

“Yes,” Dany agreed. “Sometimes it felt as if I was just as tired when you visited me, but then we were constantly working on very little sleep back then, so it was hard to tell the difference.”

“That and what we always get up to when we _do_ meet via the Door.” He smirked at her. “That certainly makes me sleepy too, even without the magic involved. It’s obviously getting easier for us now though. From being able to move further away from the Doors, to be able to sense each other without touching them and, aye, not feeling quite so tired.”

“So, if we’re not falling asleep straight away, tell me about Castle Black,” Dany said.

“It’s a mess,” he replied. “Honestly, parts of this castle seem no better now than some of the long abandoned ones. It will take a lot of time and work to get even this one close to fighting strength, never mind the other eighteen.”

“Is that even possible?”

“I don’t think so, no.” Jon sighed. “I’m not sure how the army of the dead will break through. Whether they will climb it or use dead giants to break through abandoned castles? Maybe, like the Wildlings, they’ll spread out all over the wall and simply test it out for the weakest spots. Ultimately though it only needs one of them to get through to start causing chaos. We have to be vigilant and guard the whole length of it and we have no chance of doing that as the Night’s Watch stands at the moment.”

She sighed, nuzzling up against his neck. “I could step through to you tomorrow, Jon, and you can tell me more or give me a list or something? Although I really need to fly south soon in order to talk to Tyrion and tell him about this and … I think we probably need to expand the mining operation here on Dragonstone too?”

“That would be a good idea, aye,” Jon replied. “You still plan to fly up here at some point?”

“Yes. Both to show my face up there officially and to have a look at the Wall for myself, seeing I’ve never actually seen it.”

“Gods, you haven’t, have you?” He shook his head. “And the view from dragon-back would be invaluable. I wouldn’t mind seeing it from up there too.”

“Well that’s the other reason I want to come up, of course. One way or another we need to get you airborne in order to fully understand the Doors.” She sighed again. “I suppose that means we should try to get some sleep now. When shall I come over to you?”

“Via the Door?” He winced. “Probably best if you don’t, Love. I’ll leave you a note after my meeting tomorrow, though. Pass on all we’ve discussed and what will be relevant for you to know before your meeting with Tyrion?”

“Yes, I suppose that makes sense. Give me an incentive to get everything moving and fly up there sooner.” She leant up to kiss him on the lips. “You’d better get ready to go then.”

He nodded, quickly shuffling back into this clothes before pulling her close again, reluctantly adjusting himself ready for sleep but hating the idea of leaving her again.

“It won’t be so bad now, Jon,” she said, sighing as she snuggled up against him once more. “We’ll see each other more often from this point on and our times apart will be fewer.”

“I know,” he said, “but the more deeply I fall in love with you, the harder it is to be separated from you – even for an hour.”

“Oh, Jon,” she said her voice a breathy whisper as she kissed his neck. “How I love you.”

It was the last thing he remembered before opening his eyes again to the cold, bleak darkness of the maester’s chambers at Castle Black.

~o~0~o~

**Castle Black**

It now felt as cold up here as it had north of the Wall all those years ago. Luckily the Night’s Watch now consisted of Wildlings and a few sturdy, remaining brothers, most of whom had ventured further north themselves and so were able to deal with the temperatures fairly well.

Davos had insisted he accompanied Jon up here and was perhaps suffering the most, grumbling about how he hadn’t imagined experiencing _anything_ colder than when he had rode north of the Wall with Stannis a few years earlier.

“And it’s not going to get any warmer any time soon,” Jon told him. “You could have remained in Winterfell though.”

“I could of, aye, but I’m your Hand now, apparently, so best I stay with you.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “That title means a lot less now there are so many rulers.”

“Hah! I was Hand to Stannis when there were five kings and actually seven if you count your good lady wife and Mance.”

“I suppose.” Jon sighed. “Daenerys is right though. We do need to break the wheel when this is all over.”

“Aye, I imagine we do.”

“She’s flying up here soon,” Jon said then.

“So I gather. What then?”

“She’ll see if her dragon will allow me to fly on him and then, at some point, she’ll take me to Dragonstone and perhaps King’s Landing as she … has some tasks for me down there.”

Davos paused, frowning. “Is there any chance at all that the beast would accept _me_?”

Jon turned, an eyebrow raised. “Are you really that keen to keep an eye on me?”

He chuckled. “It’s not that. It’s just ... With all the news filtering up from the south about King’s Landing? Well, I was hoping to get to visit the old place again and admit to being curious about what your queen has planned for the city.”

“You have family there?” Jon asked.

“Not exactly but … there was someone I had hoped to check up on, aye.”

Jon nodded. “Well, I will be meeting Daenerys’ other dragons when she flies up and Drogon has allowed people on his back at his mother’s behest, so it’s not out of the question.”

“And how do you feel about the idea of flying up there?” Davos asked him.

“Much the same as you do, I imagine. Terrified but excited.”

“Aye, that about sums it up.”

Jon paused, considering. “Davos … I’ve been keeping a number of secrets from you.”

He chuckled. “I gathered as much.”

“One though … I think I should tell you, even though only Daenerys and my immediately family know about it at the moment.”

“If you think it’s important.”

He nodded. “I’ve found out via Bran that Eddard Stark wasn’t my father.” He turned to look at Davos to find the man staring at him wide-eyed. “My mother was Lyanna Stark of Winterfell. My father ...” It still felt so strange to say it. “My father was Prince Rheagar Targaryen.”

“Seven Hells!” His Hand gaped for a moment before nodding. “So that was why Melisandre was so interested in you? You have royal blood.”

Jon shrugged. “But still a bastard.”

“That as maybe but you are still related to the old dynasty as well as being King in the North and now the husband of Queen Daenerys who ... is related to you?”

“My aunt, apparently. Although such a thing is not an issue here in the north. Even less of one between Targaryens.”

“I suppose not.” Davos paused. “And yet, I can tell that there is still something that you’re not telling me.”

“You’re right. And perhaps I will do soon. But I think you have more than enough new information to deal with at this precise moment, don’t you?”

Davos nodded. “I’d say.”

“I only told you that so you’d understand why Drogon accepted me so easily that first time and why Dany thinks I might be able to ride one of her other children.”

Jon shook his head then, telling himself off for using that name, despite how few knew of his childhood friend and might be suspicious of it. Davos just smiled though, obviously not finding it at all unusual that Jon would have a pet name for his wife.

“When is she due to arrive?” was all he said in response.

“Tomorrow. Assuming nothing urgent keeps her in the south.”

~o~0~o~

Just as he had at Winterfell, Jon strode confidently out of the castle towards the spot where Drogon had landed, with others trailing more cautiously behind him. At least this time he didn’t have to be quite so distant and cautious in his approach. After all, he was a newly married man who had apparently only spent one night with his new wife and had felt no need to hide how happy he was about the arrangement.

Still, there was no reason to make things _too_ awkward for those now coming to witness the sight of the queen and her dragons, so Jon simply took her hands in his and placed a lingering kiss on one cheek, before pulling her close to rest his chin on the top of her head.

He exhaled loudly. “I’ve missed you, Dany.”

“Hush, it’s not been that long.”

“A lifetime.”

She pulled away and tapped him gentle on the arm. “Idiot.”

“Come, let me introduce you to everyone here.”

He kept Dany close with his hand on Longclaw, his soft smile at having his wife with him again not quite hiding the challenging glare he threw at certain Wildlings and Brothers whose reputations he knew only too well. The dragons stayed close too, taking it in turns to hover outside their gate and fly above their walls and Jon realised he would have to be even less subtle in reminding those here that the queen was not to be disrespected in any way and had four deadly killers as protectors.

Five, in fact, as Ghost had tagged along on his journey north and now suddenly appeared out of the woods to stalk alongside the couple.

“He’s practically ignored me since we got here,” he complained to his wife. “The moment you arrive though … out he comes like a little pup.”

“Little?”

“Little compared to _your_ children and just a big baby around you, it seems.”

“Now then, Jon, you know full well that they reflect our own thoughts and character. So what then does that say about you?”

He chuckled. “You know very well.”

Edd, now Lord Commander Tollett, had offered Jon the second best chambers for his visit and had been surprised when the young king turned it down in favour of the old maester’s room. Jon had asked for the guest chambers to be tidied and prepared all the same, knowing Daenerys would be visiting the castle at some point and wanting to make sure she had a comfortable place to stay. He would sleep with her in there tonight, of course, both for her protection and because the Dragon Door was of no use to either of them whilst they were both on the same side of it.

After introducing her to a few of the key people here, Jon gave the queen a brief tour of the castle, casually pointing out the chamber where he had been sleeping and exchanging a knowing look with her. It was odd to think that he had sensed exactly where the Door was by feel alone when he had arrived and yet now there was no pull at all. No way for Dany to even guess where it would be. And soon they would have that job in all the other castles and in King’s Landing in particular. Hoping to pinpoint a single door in a place that was a winding labyrinth both above and below ground. A task they could only accomplish if one of them was on Dragonstone. The whole prospect seemed highly daunting and Jon wasn’t even sure he fully understood the plan Dany had for the pair of them from this point on.

After the tour of Castle Black they attended a long meeting, with his wife quickly and smoothly falling into her queenly role - one Jon had only very briefly observed at Winterfell. He knew what she had accomplished and had often wondered at it, having mostly seen his old friend turned into a beautiful, loving woman and only experiencing her tactical knowledge via their unique negotiations before, after or in-between bouts of loving. Now though, he was able to fully admire Queen Daenerys Targaryen, as opposed to Dany, leaning back against the wall with a proud smile on his face as he watched her charm the men around the table and explain her plans to them.

He noticed Davos and Edd glance up at him a couple of times, observing his lazy pose and no doubt interpreting it for what it was - his full and absolute trust. Davos smiled slightly at the sight whilst Edd rolled his eyes so high up into his head that Jon wondered for a moment if the Lord Commander was about to Warg some nearby creature.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” Edd complained as he came over to Jon after the meeting. “There really is nothing more sick than a man in love.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Jon countered, although he knew full well he was still smirking. “The queen knows what she’s doing.”

“ _Your_ opinion,” he replied dryly. “And a highly biased one at that. Although it would be a pleasant surprise to find at least one person in this godsforsaken part of the realm who does.”

~o~0~o~

Once the meeting was over, Jon and Dany walked back outside to the dragons, the queen pushing her thoughts upwards to encourage all three of them to land. At her urging, Jon walked up to Drogon first - ensuring his co-operation in what was to follow - before turning his attention to Viserion. The smaller dragon then approached him, curious but cautious, and Jon patiently stood his ground, hand held out, heart now thumping with nerves, despite the apparent protection his blood offered.

However, before the white dragon had managed to move within touching distance there was a loud snort and grumble and Jon quickly took a step back as a blur of green arrived - Rhaegal roughly pushing his brother away so he could stand in his place - the dragon’s sudden move almost unbalancing Jon. Recovering his footing quickly, he slowly raised a hand whilst nervously checking that the other two did not appear to be upset by it all.

Drogon appeared to be ignoring them, whilst Viserion had simply skulked away and so, with a quick glance at Dany, who looked surprised but not overly concerned, Jon stretched his hand back out to caress Rhaegal’s snout, chuckling slightly as he felt the dragon’s contented rumble at the contact.

“I think it’s safe to say that Rheagal’s taken to you as Ghost did to me,” his wife said. “I really would prefer it if you got Viserion’s approval too but he just seems indifferent. I suppose if there’s any chance at all of you riding one it would be Rhaegal but I’m not sure it’s worth pushing that on the first meeting.”

“Probably not,” Jon said, lowering his hand and then laughing as the dragon stretched his neck a bit further in order to chase it. “One thing to have an enormous direwolf following me around. Would be a might trickier if this one starts acting like a lost pup too.”

“Enough, Rhaegal,” Dany said, laughing at the dragon’s continuing fussing. “Drogon, be a dear and encourage these two to fly off for a bit, would you? Jon and I need to go back inside.”

‘Encourage’ was perhaps not the word Jon would have chosen to describe what happened next; Drogon snapping and growling at his two smaller siblings to chase them away whilst Dany just looked on happily, as if they were mere kittens playing with a reel of thread. She saw Jon’s expression and laughed.

“You should have seen them when they were half-grown. I didn’t have a proper bond with Drogon back then either. They may be twice the size now but they’re far easier to manage.”

Jon just rolled his eyes as she laughed again, looping her hand around his arm as they walked back towards the castle together. “How long will you be staying?” he asked.

“Just for tonight and half the day tomorrow,” she replied with a large sigh. “After today’s meeting I think it’s vital I return to Dragonstone on my own and make plans to expand the mining operation down there. You were right, Jon. We don’t have anywhere near enough dragonglass. And the size of the weapons we do have ...? How effective are those small spears and arrowheads really going to be against White Walkers and all the other dead creatures they’ve managed to turn out there?”

He shrugged. “It worries me, certainly. Swords would be far better but there are so view Valyrian Steel ones left now and dragonglass weapons become too brittle when you try to make them larger.”

“And there are no alternatives?”

“Other than dragon fire for the Wights? No. Although Sam has promised to keep looking into the archives at Old Town for me.”

She nodded. “Do you think our hosts would consider it terribly rude if you and I disappear for a bit?”

Jon raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I just thought perhaps a little rest before supper might be nice. And perhaps one of your special massages?”

He smirked. “You do look a little tired, my love and it would be no good at all if you got ill or injured now with so much to do.”

“That’s true,” she agreed. “You will need to handle me very gently.”

“Really?” Jon loved their times together, no matter the place or position, but ‘gentle’ was certainly a rarity for the pair of them.

She laughed. “Well, perhaps not _that_ gently. Let’s just see how I feel once you have me fully unravelled.”

~o~0~o~

**Two Nights Later**

Jon tossed and turned in the small bed in the old maester’s chambers, struggling to sleep without Dany by his side, but knowing he had even less chance of doing so in ‘their’ bed now that she had returned south to visit camp, castles and mines. Of course, he was also sleeping here so he would know when she was back at Dragonstone and could visit her via the Door. Then, within the week, his wife would return to Castle Black properly in order to fly the pair of them south. There was a part of Jon that still felt guilty about the plans she had for them to investigate the other Doors and yet, although it was true that there was still a lot of preparation to undertake here in the north, there were others capable of managing _those_ tasks, but only him able to assist Dany with her mission.

And so he was here, just in case, willing himself to fall asleep whilst trying not to dwell too much on how much he missed her.

He hadn’t even realised he’d succeeded until he became aware of a strange, insistent sound intruding on his dreams, along with a familiar, strong pull towards the Door. He sensed someone in the room with him then, and Jon had lived too long in fear of his life to not react to it. He reached for the knife on his side table before he’d even started to sit up, turning quietly and then muffling a gasp at the strange apparition before him. There was now an exceptionally bright, airy light coming from the Door, outlining a small, hooded figure dressed in white who appeared to drift into the room though a misty haze, whilst a large, dark object floated eerily behind.

Jon stared, blinking, no longer on edge, not even fully convinced he was awake, just watching as the pale ghost and its dark cargo drifted slowly to his left.

“Who are you?” he managed to ask.

The figure stopped before turning slowly, long white hair spilling out from under a white fur-lined hood, light eyes regarding him, before stepping through the swirling mist towards his bed. Jon sucked in a breath as the apparition moved towards the faint light of the fire and revealed itself to be an old woman - so very changed and yet not that different at all. The same beautiful eyes. The same cheeky grin.

“ _You_ should be asleep, young man,” she said, her voice also perfectly recognisable despite the added years. “You’ve a busy day ahead of you tomorrow.”

“D-dany?”

She smiled again, looking at him in wonder. “Just so very pretty.”

“I … I don’t understand? What’s happening?”

“Perhaps you’re still dreaming?” she teased and if there had been any doubt in his mind at all about the lady’s identity, the cheeky retort quickly banished it. “Don’t worry, my sweet fire-wolf, you’ll figure it out soon enough.” Then she nodded down at the sack she had brought in and headed back towards the Door.

“Dany! Wait!” Jon called out, scrambling out of bed so quickly that he got tangled up in the furs and ended up in a heap on the wooden floor. He tried to get up but the Door was now closing and he was already beginning to understand that he wouldn’t be able to follow anyway. Not if she was really …

“Gods!”

Instead of dwelling on _that_ impossibility, Jon instead crawled towards the sack she had left, realising that it had been moved here on a long flat trolley, making it easy for a small, elderly lady to pull and explaining why its heavy contents had appeared to float. He threw a handful of small twigs onto the dying fire, hoping they would provide a little more light and then hastily pulled at the ties on the sack, impatient to see its contents, his heart hammering in his chest.

As the sides fell open the contents rattled - a now familiar sound to Jon as he saw the reflections flashing across the dark surfaces of the weapons in front of him. Dragonglass daggers, but larger than any he had seen so far and with far neater edges, plus long, thin pikes of the same material which would be perfect for attacking the enemy from a distance. There were also small bags filled with tiny, viciously sharp dragonglass spikes and there, at the bottom, a number of paler weapons - the quickly brightening firelight dancing off the edges and mocking him.

“That’s impossible.” Jon pushed the dragonglass weapons aside to get a better look at what lie beneath. Twenty? Thirty swords. Bright, sharp … “Impossible. I _must_ still be dreaming.” He picked one up, then another, confirming that they were all made of the same metal. All of the hilts clean and newly formed and the blades quite obviously Valyrian steel. Jon felt like crying in relief.

“Please let this be real,” he begged. “Please!”

~o~0~o~

**End of Act Three**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of explanations at the start of this which I hope are clear enough and will help to answer a few of your questions regarding the Doors. Much of this chapter is setting up and teasing what is to come in Act 4 (and beyond) especially that last scene!  
> 
> I know a few of you have guessed that this is where I was going for a while now. Time travel! OMG, the plot knots! Whatever was I thinking? 
> 
> Fortunately, Act 4 is roughly done now so I can again move my guarenteed weekly update estimate. Now to at least the 4th November.  


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovely new moodboard by [the-last-targaryens](Lovely%20new%20moodboard%20by%20the-last-targaryens%20for%20chapters%2019%20-%2021.%20A%20few%20small,%20visual%20clues%20for%20what's%20coming%20up!) for chapters 19 - 21. A few small, visual clues for what's coming up! 

###  **Act Four:** **Sensing** **Dragons**

**Jon XIX**

**Castle Black and Dragonstone (7x06 AU)**

Jon was now fully awake, staring in awe at the cache in front of him and the bright sword in his hand, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of what had just happened and what it all meant. He was so distracted that it took him quite some time to realise that he had been feeling a steady pull from the Dragon Door for a while now, perhaps even during his dreams.

“Dany.” The first call of her name was a whisper as he scrambled to his feet and dashed over to the Door, one of the new swords still clutched in his hand. The second a shout, as he turned sharply right and ran into her room. “Dany!”

“Jon?” she mumbled sleepily.

“You just came through the Door,” he gasped, sitting down on the side of her bed as he lit the candle at her bedside.

“What? No I didn’t. I got back so late … didn’t want to disturb you. Thought I’d sleep here so you’d know I was back when you awoke.”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that. Not _you_ exactly but still … you when … when you were older.”

She sat up slowly, blinking, as she forced herself to wake up. “What are you saying?”

“Bran was right. He said it was possible. He can view the past and even the future sometimes and he said ... he _though_ _t_ that the Door had the same sort of magic. And it’s true. You just came through to Castle Black from the future and you left me a sack of weapons.”

She was still half asleep. “We _have_ weapons.”

He dropped the sword on her lap and shook his head. “Not like this we don’t.”

She gaped at it before looking up at him. Those same eyes he had just seen on a far older face. “Is this ...?”

“Valyrian steel. Newly forged.”

“But …?”

He nodded. “The art is lost to us. We currently have no idea how our ancestors made it but … perhaps in the future? Within our life time? Perhaps between now and then we’ll learn how.”

“We can step through to a different time?”

“Yes, and I just thought … It came to me when I was thinking about you travelling to the past. What if we could travel to the future too? What if Rhaegar managed it?”

“Rhaegar?” She gasped as she suddenly catch up with him. “Oh ...”

“What if he came through from the past to visit you? That would explain why you were so sure you had met him years after he died. And I think …. I think there may have been other incidences too but we’ll need to talk it through. We need to try to remember any time that silver-haired men or women came to visit us or-”

“-or you!” Dany gasped, hand against her mouth.

“What? What is it?”

Her look of shock turned first to amusement and then delight as she leant forwards on the bed to grab his face with both hands and kiss him very firmly on the lips. “Thank you.”

“What … for what?”

“For saving my life.”

“I don’t ...”

“It was you, Jon. _You’re_ my Dark Knight.”

“What? You’re saying that I came through from the future to tell you to leave because there would be an attack … and ...”

“Because you knew it would happen because I told you …” She frowned, suddenly uncertain. “No … is that ... Yes?”

“Gods, Dany … this is madness.”

“And you just stepping over a thousand leagues south in a heart-beat isn’t?”

He shook his head. “Are you _sure_ it was me?”

“I think so. I mean, I wasn’t before but now I think about it … There have been so many small things about that night which keep coming back to me recently but the main one is this image of I have of you.” She got out of bed and put on a robe, lifting the Valyrian sword up and handing it to him. “Imagine it, Jon.” You’re rescuing me and outside this bed-chamber there are soldiers. We need to leave this room and I’m young, unarmed and confused. What would you do? How would you proceed.”

Jon closed his eyes, imagining. “But you already know, don’t you?” he said as he pulled her close against his side. “This is how I held you when you came over to me at Winterfell immediately afterwards.”

“Yes, and even then the gesture felt familiar to me, despite you being so much younger and leaner but now ...” She rearranged herself in his arms a little, moving them towards the door and Jon noticed her look down at his hand and followed her gaze, not even realising that he had automatically gripped the smaller, Valyrian sword as he would Longclaw, preparing to face the threat on the other side.

“Dark gloves and a light pommel,” she continued. “I saw it on the day of our wedding when you were escorting me into Winterfell, and again the other day at Castle Black. I have so rarely seen you with that beautiful sword of yours, of course, but now … Now it seems so obvious.”

He nodded. “Let’s go back through so you can see both the cache and Longclaw.” It wasn’t that he doubted her, rather that the whole idea of it seemed so extraordinary. “Also, you should take note of how this feels,” he continued as he pushed the Door open. “You coming through with me now, despite having no-one on the other side?”

She nodded as she moved with him to step over the threshold and shuddered. “Urgh, that’s horrible.”

“Aye. Creepy,” he agreed. “Like someone’s poured icy water down your back.”

He had started to move towards his sword but Dany had become distracted by the sack and trolley, kneeling down to pick up a few of the weapons and then lifting the cloth they had been wrapped in, squinting.

“Bring a brighter light over here, Jon. There’s a mark on here that I can’t quite see.”

He turned to light the larger candle he used for writing, taking it over and sitting cross-legged next to where she was crouched. They both took note of the design, quite obviously a sigil on the cloth, and gasped.

“What? That’s ... half Stark, half Targaryen?” he decided. “The dragon _and_ the wolf.”

“Us,” Dany replied. “Our new House.”

“But ...” It was just all a bit too much for him to grasp. He stared at it for a moment before hearing a quiet sound and turning his attention back to his wife who now had her head down. He leant forwards, lifting her chin gently to note her eyes brimming with tears. “What is it, Love?”

“Just … our House, Jon, but … what future does it have with only the two of us?”

“Hush. None of that. That witch may have cursed you but you’ve no other proof that you’re barren.” She opened her mouth to protest. “Yes, I know. Your moonblood … other men you’ve lain with but that still means very little. You were so young when you lost Rhaego. _Too_ young. Your body needed time to heal. Never mind all the stresses you were under back then. Are still under now.”

She smiled at him weakly. “When did _you_ become an expert in the ways of a woman’s body.”

He smirked. “I just can’t imagine.”

“Jon!” At least he had managed to make her smile.

“And even with us,” he continued. “Of all the times we’ve been together, there were only two nights when we were truly in the same place. Didn’t you say that you thought it unlikely for _any_ woman to conceive via the Door?”

“I can’t imagine how odd that would have been,” she said. “Imagine if you got me pregnant that very first time - moons ago - and I was now showing. How would we explain that after we’d only been married a few weeks?”

He laughed. “We’d certainly have no way of convincing other people it was mine.”

“Unless it looked fully Targaryen.” She smiled, suddenly wistful, before abruptly shaking her head. “No, Jon. I know you’re trying to help but I don’t want to think about what _could_ be. It just hurts too much.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

Jon had never allowed himself to think too hard about having children. Not until this moment where Dany’s remark had him imagining what their baby might look like. Silver hair like hers? Dark curls like his? How much of his father’s blood did he carry in his veins? How much of his Targaryen side might come out in their children? He swallowed and shook his head, only now starting to understand the grief his wife had carried around with her all these years.

“We have each other,” he said, standing up in one fluid movement and holding his hand out to pull her up to him. “And I wouldn’t trade that for anything else. You know that, right?”

She rubbed the tears away with the back of her free hand and nodded. “Yes.”

“And, anyway, I came here to show you Longclaw. Look.” And he pointed to where it was leaning against the wall.

“Oh, it really is beautiful and …” Her gaze went back to the new sword he was still holding. “… I hadn’t realised quite how large it was.”

He grinned, handing her the smaller one as he picked up Longclaw, shifting it in his hand and turning towards her. She stepped back to give him a little more room to swing it, her eyes widening as she watched him, a now beautifully familiar brightness showing in her eyes.

“You showing off for me, Jon?”

“Maybe …” He spun it around a little more, getting into the rhythm, one eye on her as he noticed her breathing now picking up. “I get the feeling you don’t mind too much.”

She smiled shyly at him. “It actually looks smaller when you handle it. Like it was made for you.”

He nodded. “It’s longer on the hilt see? A hand and a half sword it’s often called, although it’s easy enough to hold it with two.” He did so, holding it up, and she nodded, her eyes still wide. “Also known as a Bastard Sword.” He laughed. “Appropriate, no?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not any more. At least not once I’m in a position to fully legitimise you.”

“It’s really not that important,” he retorted, pulling a face. “I am what I am. A piece of paper will not erase the past nor the circumstances of my birth.”

“Whatever you want, of course. The offer remains open if you change your mind.” She took a step forwards to place the small sword on the bed before holding out her hand to him. “May I?”

Jon stopped the motion with the blade pointing down, handing her the hilt and waiting until she had a firm grasp in both hands before releasing it, trying not to smirk as she struggled with the weight a little. He then turned to his desk to put on a pair of dark leather gloves, wincing as he watched her attempts to copy his movements. She saw what he was doing and nodded.

“I’m actually quite certain now, Jon but, yes, hold me close again.”

“Such a chore,” he mumbled into her ear, taking his sword back from her, pulling her much closer up again his front and smiling as she ground back up against him suggestively. He tried to focus on what he was supposed to be doing though, holding Longclaw ready to attack whilst ‘protecting’ her, and Dany turned her head again to look down at his sword hand.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “There’s no doubt in my mind now. That and seeing you spinning that thing just now. Gods, I’ll never forget the sight of you fighting, Jon. Even as scared as I was. The way you danced around the living room. I think perhaps I fell a little in love with you then, even before I was aware of the feelings I had for your younger self.”

She pulled away then, licking her lips as she looked at him and he quickly placed his weapon down on his bed next to the other one and pulled her into a kiss, both their hands quickly wandering.

“Let’s go next door, Love,” he said after a while. “I really don’t want to be doing this so close to my poor, deprived brothers.”

She scoffed, turning to pick Longclaw back up. “First rule we need to change. I know now is probably not the time to have a bunch of small folk near such obvious danger but, once things have calmed down, I see no good reason for the men not to take their wives up there or … have fighting women there too. Girls like Arya or … that amazingly tall knight at Winterfell?”

“Brienne? She isn’t a knight but, aye, I see no reason why she shouldn’t be.”

“One of the first on my list, I’d say.” Then she walked back towards the Door, still holding Longclaw.

“Dany ...” he said, holding a hand out towards her. “I really don’t want to risk leaving that behind. I need it to stay here with me.”

She pouted briefly before handing it back over. “All right, but bring that other sword then.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to do that twirling thing with it again next door.”

“That … ‘twirling thing’?” he repeated, slightly offended. She just giggled, but he did as she asked, following her next door to discover her already naked and scurrying back under the covers.

“I really, _really_ enjoyed watching you handle your sword like that,” she replied, very suggestively.

He gave her a warning look but couldn’t resist her plea, adjusting the lighter, shorter sword a few times to get used to the different balance before flexing his wrist, checking the fairly small space and then spinning the weapon around with a flourish.

“Gods ...” she breathed. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to look even more appealing. You can strip now.”

“As my queen commands,” he said. “but I’m putting this down first. No way do I want this blade anywhere near me with no clothes on.”

“Me neither,” she agreed as he stripped off his upper layers and rolled his trousers down to his ankles. “ _Tha_ _t_ sword though? That one I definitely want close.”

He glared at her, trying not to laugh, clambering under the covers and kissing her, whilst her hand moved downwards and quickly stroked him to full hardness.

He felt her smile against his lips. “You certainly know how to handle your long and impressive weapons.”

“Stop it,” he complained, pulling his mouth away from her neck. “How do you expect me to take this seriously if you keep up these horrible, lewd jokes.”

“Worth it to see you smile,” she said, quickly encouraging him onto this back and straddling him. “You still don’t do that enough for my liking.” She dropped down on him hard, both of them gasping at the sensation.

“Don’t ...” he warned as he took note of her wicked gaze. “No jokes about stabbing, I _beg_ you.” She opened her mouth to say something but he put a finger firmly against her lips. “Or about my sword flourishes.”

Although it was worth it to see her laugh, never mind the way that felt now he was sheathed inside her. He groaned at yet another sword analogy his mind had just conjured before moving his hands between her legs, fighting to slide a finger in to where they joined.

“Jon! Yes!” she shouted, speeding up her movements, and soon his mind was devoid of any thoughts but her. His beautiful wife. His world. His home.

~o~0~o~

**Dany XIX**

**Castle Black (7x06 AU)**

Daenerys was back on Drogon early the following day, flying first to her King’s Landing camp to collect supplies and then working with her advisors to draw up an itinerary for the next few days, promising she would return to them soon. First she headed to Riverrun to drop off the supplies she should have delivered on the day of her wedding and then it was back to The Twins to deliver more weapons and food and to reassure Lady Frey that there were soldiers on their way up to her.

The following day she was off again, flying north along the King’s Road, over the top of Winterfell and then continuing up to Castle Black. All these flights gave the young queen plenty of time to ponder the recent Door revelations whilst also wondering if Rhaegal would accept Jon on his back. These visits and deliveries would be so much easier if there were two of them to do the flying and would have the added advantage of allowing her more time to be with Jon and help him with _his_ fight.

Her husband met her on his own this time, striding out onto the long, flat moorland in front of the castle and quickly pulling her into their usual embrace. They said nothing for the longest time, just holding on tight, until he finally pulled away to gaze down at her - eyes dark and deep and full of love. He placed a gentle kiss on her lips, somehow still managing to set her whole body on fire despite this most gentle of actions.

She directed the other two dragons to land and Jon quickly raised his hand to reintroduce himself to them, although this time he did not remove his glove, the weather up here just too cold to do so safely. As before Viserion showed only an idle curiosity, whilst Rhaegal seemed entranced, but Dany didn’t want Jon attempting to ride him where there could be others watching. Best to try _that_  feat at Dragonstone when they flew back down with them later.

“I’ve been thinking about other times I’ve seen people at Winterfell who could have been visiting Targaryens,” Jon said as he placed her hand in the crook of his arm and lead her towards the small, bleak castle.

“Yes, me too,” she replied. “Although I think it was only ever you, Rhaegar and … perhaps Uncle Aemon?”

He turned to her curiously before nodding. “Aye, I think I saw him too but only ever on Dragonstone and when he was quite a bit younger?”

She nodded. “He did say that he hadn’t used the Door since he’d gone fully blind. ‘Hardly any point,’ he told me. ‘Nothing to see and dangerous too.’”

“I can imagine.”

“Any others for you?” she asked once he had escorted her back to her chambers here.

He nodded, turning to look at her intently. “You again, I think. Only more like you are now.” He shook his head, smiling. “It’s odd to look back on the old memory now and recall the beautiful lady I saw - her smile. Her eyes - and now realise with absolute certainty that it was you.”

“When?”

“When I was a young child. Two incidences that I remember. One at the well where you were laughing at something Robb and I were saying and another before that ...” He frowned. “I was _so_ young that first time. I don’t really remember the specifics just …” The look he gave her seemed suddenly shy.

“Yes?”

“I thought you the most beautiful vision I had ever seen. An angel come to visit me.”

Dany rolled her eyes. “A romantic fool even then.”

“Where you are concerned? Always.”

She smiled at that. “So, what have you done with the weapons?”

“They’re still in Maester Aemon’s room,” he replied, “and I’m still trying to work out how to distribute them. The dragonglass will be easy enough - at least the conventional daggers and arrowheads. They’re of far higher quality than any I’ve seen so far but I doubt anyone up here will question that. I was thinking about mixing them up with the weapons you’ve brought so they can then be flown to the other manned castles?”

“Good idea. How has that all been going?”

He shrugged. “Slowly. Won’t be able to really push forward with it until we get more men up here and, even then, there’s going to be a lot of training to do.”

“Perhaps, but I’m sending soldiers up here, as well as prisoners and most of those are soldiers anyway - those who refused to co-operate with me in the south? So, hopefully you won’t have as much work to do with them as you have had before.”

He kissed her fiercely, making her jump. “Thank you, Dany. You have no idea how much all this means to me. You and … those weapons.” Then he shook his head, dropping his gaze and she smiled gently at his emotion for such a thing. That this task, saving the north and saving the Realm, meant so much to him that any help he received for it would move him to tears.

“And the swords?” she asked then. “What shall we do with them?”

He frowned. “I don’t know. They’re a gift, to be sure, but one which will be so hard to explain. I thought to also casually put them in with the other weapons but they really should be wielded by those with real skill. I was thinking perhaps we should just gift them individually to various warriors as we come across them. By the time the fight comes and people start to question the number we actually have, I think everyone will be long past caring.”

She nodded. “That’s a good idea. Keep a handful up here with you then and we’ll take the rest to Dragonstone. Start making a note of any skilled fighters who do not currently own one.”

“Good. And we still need to figure out how best to use those tiny spikes.”

“Some sort of sling shot?” she suggested.

“Perhaps.” He sighed and then gave her a weak smile. “How are you feeling, my love? Do you need to rest or are you up to meeting with Edd? Only he did say he wished to talk to you about the transportation of building supplies and weapons to the other castles up here.”

“I shall meet with him now, of course. Time enough to rest tonight.”

“I would allow you to sleep properly and keep to my own bed if I could,” he said then, “but, as much as it pains me to say it, there are a number of men up here that I really don’t trust with your safety.”

She smiled, shaking her head. “You know by now that I sleep better when you’re with me, Jon. I have no desire to waste our rare, precious time together by spending it apart.”

~o~0~o~

A handful of sacks were filled with weapons - including the new, dragonglass ones from the future - bound for the other castles on the Wall. The spikes and Valyrian Steel swords were kept back though - some here in the room by the Door and the rest to be taken south to Dragonstone in the next day or two -whilst the pikes would travel south to be used by her Unsullied.

The following morning the sacks were taken over towards the dragons and the two of them worked to attach them via ropes to Drogon whilst Dany encouraged Ser Davos to come fairly close and check that her children didn’t take a violent dislike to him. As long as Drogon tolerated him it was likely he’d be allowed to join them on the flight south. However, it was only Jon who was going to fly with her today and she had absolutely no doubt that her largest son would accept him on his back.

She gave her husband a few words of advice before she headed up, knowing it would be hard to explain things to him whilst they were flying. His brow was furrowed as he listened intently, before watching her climb Drogon and then tentatively following her. His strength and agility meant he had little trouble with that and he quickly settled behind her, his arms around her middle as she instructed the dragon to fly.

“Sow… vess?” he repeated, his poor attempt to pronounce the Valyrian word with his strong accent making her smile.

“I’ll teach you properly later,” she shouted back.

Then they were up in the air and Jon’s arms tightened around her and he gasped loudly in his ear.

“You’re fine. You’re safe,” she shouted over her shoulder. “Just breathe.” And his death grip on her soon eased.

This had been the right decision, she decided, getting him used to being in the air on Drogon before attempting the feat with Rhaegal. As she turned around she noticed that Jon had already relaxed, even looking down curiously at the huge drop below with no sign of fear in his eyes. He saw her surprise and grinned.

“I climbed the Wall with only ropes and climbing spikes,” he reminded her, having to shout in her ear to be heard over the wind. “This is considerably less terrifying.”

They flew to Eastwatch-by-the-Sea first, talking briefly to those manning the Wall there, including a huge red-haired giant of a man whose look of surprise on seeing Drogon land near the castle changed to a sudden huge roar as he recognised Jon. Once they had dismounted and approached the man, her husband was pulled into such a violent hug that his feet actually left the ground. Jon introduced him as Tormund, along with a few of the other key men here, almost getting Dany's long list of titles right before adding, “... and my wife,” to the end of it all. Tormund responded to this by slapping Jon so hard on the back he nearly fell over before giving her a nod of the head and a knowing smile.

“A beautiful Queen Dragon for the pretty King Crow. I do hope this one is doing right by you?”

Dany quickly assessed the situation and nodded, smirking slightly. “Both In and out of bed, I assure you.”

Jon shot her a look of pure horror whilst Tormund roared with laughter.

“We’ve come here with some supplies and dragonglass weapons,” Jon explained, his face still a little pink. “Let’s bring in the sacks and talk over a few things, but the the queen and I will need to be heading off to the other castles very soon.”

“Of course,” Tormund said, suddenly more serious. “Although, whilst you’re here, you might like to take a look at a handful of mad fuckers who came up here a couple of days ago asking if they could join us.”

~o~0~o~

Today they were due to fly back down to Dragonstone and, this time, she and Jon were accompanied by Ser Davos who wished to travel with them. The kindly old knight trailed behind them quietly and nervously, perhaps now regretting the venture despite having volunteered in the first place.

Dany found it fascinating how each of her dragons reacted to the other humans she knew. Drogon would usually accept anyone on his back at her request, usually simply considering them cargo. Those his mother was especially fond of he seemed more interested in and Jon had been the only one he had appeared to openly like. Rhaegal and Viserion tended to ignore most other humans. They had accepted that these little creatures were not food to be eaten - not unless their mother wished it - but, equally, none of them had been of interest to them until Jon and, even then, only Rhaegal had really shown any excitement upon meeting him.

Davos was a little different though because Dany really didn’t know him very well. What she had seen she liked though and he must be a good man if Jon had accepted him so readily. Once confident that Drogon had understood her request, she stepped closer as he offered his wing and Jon and Davos edged forward too, making their way to follow her up onto his back. Rhaegal came closer at this point, as if hoping that Jon might climb him instead but, right now, she just wanted them all airborne and heading home. Finally, with no obvious problems and her passengers now secured behind her, Dany gave the quiet instruction and Drogon lifted off.

~o~0~o~

**Dragonstone**

Daenerys made her way gracefully down from Drogon, unable to hide her smirk as she watched Jon attempt to follow her route. She had to admit that he did a fair job of dismounting but that perhaps wasn’t surprisingly considering his general fitness and elegance during battle. He took one look at her expression as he reached the ground and rolled his eyes, instead turning his attention to Ser Davos and giving some advice of his own. The queen quickly took pity on the older man and asked Drogon to lower himself further towards the ground, even coming closer to offer her own assistance.

“That was certainly a … bracing experience,” Davos said stoically. “And, if you two don’t mind, I shall take a little walk now and savour the feeling of the ground under my feet where it’s supposed to be.”

“Shall I have a guard sent to escort you, Ser?” she asked.

“Oh, do not trouble yourself, Your Grace. I have been here on Dragonstone before so I know my way around.”

He had been here with Stannis, she remembered now, and pulled a face at the thought.

“He’s a good man,” Jon whispered to her, quickly interpreting her reaction. “There has been altogether too much blame thrown around recently about who fought for which side.”

“I know that,” she replied, a little more sharply than she had intended. “But you know what I went through at the hand of the Baratheons.”

“And the Lannisters,” he reminded her, pointedly. “And who have you chosen to be your Hand?”

She sighed. “Fair enough.” Rhaegal had also landed, edging gradually closer to Jon and it made her suddenly forget about her concerns about Davos and his history. “See if Rhaegal will let you climb him, Jon? I’m not sure it’s worth trying to fly just yet though. We might as well take it slowly.”

“Make sure _he_ knows that then,” Jon said as the green dragon very pointedly lowered his wing towards her husband.

“Tell him yourself,” she replied. “I have taught them to respond to certain verbal commands in High Valyrian but, honestly, most of it is done through thought, and probably in much the same way as you communicate with Ghost. Just keep thinking about how you want to stay on the ground and close to me and I shall also make sure Drogon understands too.”

Jon cautiously made his way up and settled himself on Rhaegal’s back much as he had Drogon, despite Rhaegal being a smaller beast. The dragon snaked his head back towards Jon and, although it seemed quite obvious to Dany that he was desperate to be airborne with this new Targaryen, she was not going to push their luck here - especially seeing as she and Jon really did have other things to be doing right now. Her thought was only confirmed by the dragons' reaction when Jon was back on the ground, his roar of complain and distress quite obvious.

“Soon, my love,” she called out to him. “I promise. However, right now there are things we need to do here.” She held out her hand to her husband with a gentle smile. “Firstly I need to give you a tour of the island and help you to join up all the various Dragon Door memories you have of this place. Then, I think, I would very much like to take you to bed.”

Jon accepted her hand, grinning broadly. “Now, that does sound like an excellent idea.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the dark knight was Jon. You will need to go back to chapter 4 if you want to read that scene again with hindsight.  
> And a hint of a number of other time travel visits too. Later on we shall see most of these from the other side.
> 
> As ever, thank you for your support on this story. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that warning I gave you about even numbered chapters during this act ...? Ah, here's chapter 20. 

**Dany XX**

**Dragonstone (7x06 AU)**

Jon was looking around wildly, obviously excited about finally being on the island for real. Dany started the tour by walking him past the castle and down the long causeway to the platform where he had watched her ship sail away all those years ago. There they stayed there for a while in quiet, comfortable silence, watching the dragons swooping down from the cliffs and over the sea, savouring the warmth of each other’s company and what remained of the pale winter sun. Afterwards, she took her husband’s hand to lead him down to the beach and from there to the cave where she briefly showed him the mining operation she had started on his behalf.

“There’s something I want you to see in there later,” she told him. “But we haven’t got time today. Let’s go back up to the castle and I’ll show you around there too.”

Jon’s gaze was still on the cave, his reluctance to leave quite obvious, but he followed her with no complaints, his head turning this way and that as he attempted to join up his strange, scattered memories of the place. He had been an especially quiet observer so far but that changed the moment they entered the Throne Room.

“This is amazing!”

“Originally the main throne before King’s Landing was fully built,” she told him, smiling proudly. “After that the seat of power of the Prince of Dragonstone. The heir.” She laughed. “I suppose that means that this is _your_ throne, my love.”

He scoffed. “We’re breaking the wheel, remember. Things will have to be different after all this is over.”

“I know.” She smiled and held out her hand again. “Come now. Let me show you to our chambers here.”

“Ours?” he breathed.

“Yes. The Targaryen royal suite.” Again, there was little point in them going down to the Dragon Door. Not now they were both here. Although that brought another question to mind. “I wonder how we do it?”

“Do what?”

“I wonder how we travel to the past or the future?”

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” Jon admitted.

“The Door to Winterfell will feel cool now,” Dany said, “but, if I were to travel to you in the past then you should be there … at various points.”

He nodded. “Which means it shouldn’t matter if the other person isn’t on the other side in the present.”

“You said you thought you sensed me once before in that way?” she asked. “I thought I sensed something at The Twins too.”

“Aye. It was like I heard something. A whisper. You … I think.”

“And yet, neither of us were here at Dragonstone at the time so, perhaps we _were_ sensing the other in the past or future?”

Jon sighed. “We will need to go and visit Bran again soon, I think. Get his insight on all of this. He does have some idea about the concept, after all, even though he’s unable to use the Doors himself.”

They had now reached her official chambers and Dany immediately headed over to throw herself onto the bed, sighing heavily. “I’ll put it on the long list of things we have to do then.”

Jon was gaping. “This bed.”

“What about it?

“It’s huge.”

She smiled at his reaction, feeling her fatigue quickly melt away at the sight of him. “And it’s really comfortable. Would you like to try it out?”

Jon had already started to remove his outer layers, his expression apparently serious but for the slight sparkle in his eye as he made sure the door was firmly closed. By the time he turned around she was already half undressed and she giggled as he dashed over to grab at her - throwing her onto the bed as if she weighed nothing and then jumping on it after her.

They were still wearing a few clothes and it quickly became a game to see who could get the other naked first. For once passion was replaced with laughter, Dany quite unable to stop giggling when Jon unerringly found every one of her ticklish spots and she desperately tried to wriggle out from his grasp in order to discover his. There was that spot just around his stomach - he always twitched there when she caressed it - so, perhaps if she tickled?

Soon their nakedness was forgotten, their kisses merely a distraction from this new game. There were numerous yelps and squeals and curses until both ended up on the floor as even this exceptionally large bed became unable to contain their crazy game.

And then, just as Dany was about to call a halt, her stomach now aching from laughing, she was quickly flipped onto her back, both wrists held above her head in one of his hands whilst the other lifted a leg and Jon suddenly loomed over her, a feral smile on his face as he entered her in one powerful thrust.

“Yes!”

As tempting as it was to let him have his way, the floor here was uncomfortable against her back and she thumped him playfully on the arm. “Hmm?”

“Bed,” she said. “Now.”

She groaned as he pulled out and stood up effortlessly, holding out his hands and hoisting her to her feet in one easy tug. Only his small smirk betrayed his next move, giving her far too little warning before she was again flying through the air to land on her back on the bed and he again scrambled to join her. This time she was ready for him, quickly rolling out before could pin her down, kneeling up and then pushing him onto his back so she could ride _him_ this time.

“Hmm, comfortable bed,” he said, the hitch in his voice betraying his true feelings about her attack on him.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Why did I get the hard floor again?”

“Because you were lying there laughing and just _so_ beautiful that I just had to claim you,” he admitted.

“Nice to see you laugh properly too,” she said, “but, enough of the games now. I want to hear you groan not giggle.” And she moved, twisting her hips as she dropped down hard, knowing by now exactly what it took to unravel her husband and looking forward to the inevitable battle of wills when he decided that he wasn’t yet ready to let her win.

~o~0~o~

As wonderful as it was to have Jon here in her bed and as tempting as it was for her to keep him there, the two of them had important work to do here in Dragonstone. When they left the royal chambers, Davos had returned from his walk and Daenerys took him and Jon to the Painted Table and introduced them both to Missandei. Davos seemed instantly taken with her friend, having had some knowledge of Naarth due to his smuggling days, and she noticed Jon watching their exchange quietly and curiously, and wondered what it was he was taking note of. The four of them then discussed Dany’s King’s Landing plan, although the king and queen inevitably left out the Dragon Door part, both because Davos didn’t know the whole truth but also because they felt strangely possessive of the magic and still unsure about what they should be sharing with other people.

Later that evening, Dany took Jon down to the old wing and, with her latest map in hand, showed him all the Dragon Doors and explained her thoughts on where she thought each might lead. Then she gave him some final instructions for his part of this venture, confirming he was to stay here on the island whilst she flew to her camp with Ser Davos the following morning. Hopefully, once she was in King’s Landing, Jon would be able to sense her from here and step through to discover the location of that particular Dragon Door.

She set off with Ser Davos on Drogon early the next morning, flying over the narrow stretch of water to the mainland and from there to their camp just outside King’s Landing. She had left her husband fast asleep, exhausted both from his night with her and a general lack of sleep recently, giving instructions to Missandei to let him lie in for as long as he needed. After all, he really had nothing of importance to do until early the following morning.

The flight was short, easy and uneventful, with Davos already seeming to have adapted to this unique mode of transport. Once they landed at the camp, the pair were ushered into the queen’s main pavilion where she introduced the knight to Varys, Tyrion and her key military commanders.

“I used to be a smuggler by trade,” Davos explained to the group. “It was, in fact, the reason for my knighthood.”

“And your title of 'Onion Knight',” Tyrion added.

“Indeed. Although, as I so often say, it was rather more than just onions I smuggled onto Storm’s End.” He shrugged. “Anyway, assuming I’ve not lost my touch, I should be able to sail you into King’s Landing without anyone seeing, although that will be considerably easier to do at night time.”

Dany nodded. “I have some catching up to do here first, of course, and so the plan is to set sail later this afternoon and arrive in the small bay Davos mentioned under the cover of darkness. Then we should be in the capital early the following morning and ready to make a start on all of our missions.

Tyrion was to see if he could arrange a meeting with his brother to explain how easily the various lords had accepted Daenerys and urge their sister to surrender peacefully to prevent further hardship. From what she had heard of Cersei, Dany very much doubted she would even listen to her twin brother and lover, but she really didn’t want the smallfolk in the city to suffer more than they were already and so thought it was worth a try. However, in case the southern queen did refuse her offer, Varys was to introduce Dany to a few key figures within the city itself. Not only were they trying to gain the support of various lordlings, knights and artisans living there but they also planned to smuggle in bags of food and gold to give directly to those most in need, or to the groups actively working to help them.

Both Tyrion and Varys had looked surprised and impressed when Dany returned later that afternoon wearing dark trousers and cloak with her hair expertly covered, but years of playing this game in Winterfell had taught her all she needed to know about not being discovered as a Targaryen in potentially hostile territory. Just as long as she kept her head down, it was unlikely she would be singled out.

The boat journey was easy and uneventful, Davos guiding them unerringly into the cove and from there up a winding, secret path which lead into the city. Tyrion and Varys soon gained their bearings and guided her along deserted streets in the murky pre-dawn light. And so, with several warnings to each other to take care, the little party split into three; Tyrion to find his contact to get a message to Jaime, Davos to search for someone he hoped would be of use to them, and Dany remaining with Varys to meet with his various contacts here.

And, of course, there was her own secret task to undertake. Trying to stay close enough to the Red Keep for Jon to be able to sense her via the Door from Dragonstone and step through.

There was a lot of visiting to be done today, but it wasn’t long before Dany felt a soft, insistent tug towards Aegon’s Hill and upwards. A pull towards Jon. She became frustrated every time Varys’ schedule had them move further away from the castle but they had important people to meet with; those inside the city who might help distribute food to the smallfolk in the short term whilst also trying to drum up support for her claim once all of this was over.

She wished she had time to write down what she was feeling in regard to the Dragon Door though. She would love to make a careful note of how strong the pulls were up to the Red Keep and in which direction. As she and Varys walked down an alleyway to approach the castle from yet another angle during the late afternoon, Dany couldn’t help but think of how she might map all of this out, perhaps even discovering the position of the Door by making a note of the strength of the pull from each of the compass points around the hill and plotting its position on a map.

That would be an interesting experiment, but hopefully quite unnecessary. Later, when she and Varys were ushered into a large, sprawling orphanage that crawled part way up a steep slope to the Red Keep, the pull she experienced was _so_ powerful that Dany was left in no doubt that Jon would feel it too.

And then the sensation changed - a strange, strong tug accompanied by a rush of sound in her ears - and it was all she could do not to openly laugh. He was here. Jon had just stepped through the Door from Dragonstone and into King’s Landing.

~o~0~o~

**Jon XX**

**Dragonstone (7x06 AU)**

Jon always slept deeply in Dany’s company. In the past they had both assumed that the magic of the Door was making them extra tired and helping them to fall asleep but now they weren’t so sure. Despite all the other factors involved in their meetings - magical and non-magical - there was something about having her in his arms, of feeling her hair against his cheek and the soft movement of her breathing gently next to him, that would always, quickly, lull him to sleep.

Dany usually ended up lying on his shoulder but, on these rare occasions where they were actually sleeping in the same place, Jon would wake soon after, smiling at the realisation that his wife was still here with him, before gently encouraging her onto her back so he could nuzzle against her; his head under her chin, his lips pressed gently against one of her pretty breasts. In this position, with the sound of her heart in his ears and her fingers threaded through his hair, Jon would fall into a deep sleep which was usually exceptionally difficult to pull himself back out of in the morning.

She left before him that day, kissing him gently awake to leave a few last instructions along with some half-hearted threats about what she would do to him if he did not take all possible precautions to ensure his safety. He had reached for her then - wanting her under him, needing to be inside her - even though he was half asleep and had already had her three times since they had arrived yesterday.

Missandei woke him some time later with breakfast and just smiled gently when he complained about not having a chance to see his wife off.

“Ser Davos told Her Grace that you had not been sleeping these last several nights,” she told him. “So they both decided you should be allowed to rest for as long as you needed today.”

Jon sat up abruptly, grumbling at the little conspiracy. “But there are things I have to do. When did they leave?”

“A couple of hours ago but it is my understanding that you are not required until tomorrow? You will have plenty of time now to relax and prepare.”

He sighed. “Well then, if you’ll allow me to eat and dress I should be making a start.”

Jon began his day by taking a walk around the island, especially keen to revisit the mine that Dany had shown him yesterday to see if he could be of any use there. He returned to the royal suite later that afternoon, taking a bath and then changing into neutral, plain attire ready for tomorrow’s adventure. Afterwards he asked to take supper down in the old wing, making himself comfortable and preparing for a long, uncertain wait until some point the following morning when he would hopefully sense Dany through one of the Doors.

So, there was plenty of time to explore this area now and Jon initially stepped through the first door on the right and into the suite that had once housed Rhaenys and Aegon, his half brother and sister. He felt an unexpected wave of emotion hit him as he entered the neglected space, having worked hard to _not_ think about this aspect of the Doors up until now. Since learning the truth about his parentage he had stubbornly continued to think of Arya, Sansa and Bran as his siblings but that now made it all the more difficult to come to terms with these rooms and realise that the two children he’d only casually interacted with when he was younger had actually been more closely related to him than the Starks.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he walked around the three room suite, studying both the Doors and the area in general. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to know you better. I’m sorry we didn’t all realise who I was at the time.”

There were numerous suites in this wing, each containing three different Dragon Doors as well as three more in the corridor that connected them all. Dany had mentioned the phrase ‘The Dragon must have Three Heads’ as something Viserys was often mumbling, but both of them were unsure of the significance of the phrase at this point in time. Viserys had thought it meant there must always be three who could use this magic but, right now, only he and Dany were alive to be able to do so. They were the last remaining Targaryens, but both suspected that the phrase meant something else and had promised to keep an open mind in all things relating to this magic anyway.

They had discovered a total of five south-westerly facing Doors in the old wing, with three of them close enough to the correct compass direction to make it impossible to know for certain which one actually lead to King’s Landing. Dany had dismissed the two in the chambers on the other side of the corridor though, believing them to be slightly too southerly. She suspected that one of these lead to Summerhall - a favourite retreat of Rhaegar’s - but the other was still a mystery, the line it drew on the map apparently missing all the castles and settlements in that direction. Despite this, Jon was to check all five anyway, just in case she had miscalculated.

The three more likely candidates all faced more precisely south-west; two in the corridor and one here in this second suite. The map suggested that these would lead to Old Town, Highgarden and King’s Landing and, although it was impossible to be certain, there was a subtle enough difference of angle which made Jon think it would be this one in this second suite which would begin to feel warm at some point today. He put his food and drink on the small table here and started to pace, placing his palm on this Door before moving out to the corridor and repeating the action on the other two. He did this small circuit twice before heading to the other side and briefly checking the two Doors over there, just in case their calculations had been wrong.

As night fell, Jon took short breaks to rest and eat before resuming his Door checking and it wasn’t long before he started to feel the tell-tale pull of magic, quickly returning to the map on the desk to write ‘King’s Landing’ next to the one he had suspected all along. Then he settled down at the desk with an impatient sigh, waiting until the pull became strong enough for him to be able to cross over.

Whilst he was waiting, Jon continued to study the map and the guesses he and Dany had made at the Doors’ directions. Having now confirmed King’s Landing, Jon thought it likely that the more southerly facing one in the corridor was Highgarden and he lightly marked that and Old Town, adding a question mark to both in case he was wrong. He and Dany would check those later, if they got the chance.

Now though he needed to be ready for _this_ adventure. He gave his clothes one final check - plain, unremarkable wear that did not hint at any place or House - a common sword at his belt; good quality, slightly longer than average and one he’d picked out especially for its balance. As much as he would miss having Longclaw at this hip, the weapon was too distinctive and far too precious to risk leaving behind in enemy territory if things did not go to plan.

He stood by the Door for the longest time, palm against the wood as the pull ebbed and flowed. His wife appeared fairly close but not enough for him to step through and so Jon remained in that position for far longer than was his custom, examining all the different sensations whilst touching this particular Door. There was the general warmth and sense of Dany - getting closer, almost allowing him to step through - but there were the other feelings here too. These were very much like the ones he had felt at Winterfell on the day of his wedding and what Dany had described regarding the Pentos and Frey Doors. As Jon homed in on the sensation, it felt to him as if he was following hundreds of tiny paths. Little threads. The grains in the wood itself perhaps. All leading to … something. Shapes and shadows just out of reach. Ghosts and whispers. For a moment Jon forgot where he was and what he was doing and just got lost in it all, feeling as if he were drugged and trying to call out to people he couldn’t quite see or hear.

Then those quiet whispers were interrupted by a sudden loud rush of sound and he was jolted back to the here and now, gasping as he sensed Dany strongly, just on the other side of this door – or so it felt to him. With a large breath and one hand firmly on the hilt of his sword, Jon twisted the metal loop on the Door and pushed, feeling it shift and creak slowly open. He took a deep breath and shoved it more firmly only to have it jolt against something on the other side.

Trying to look through the crack revealed nothing but darkness and so Jon quickly headed back to the desk, impatiently lighting a candle before trying again. He pushed the light through to reveal numerous boxes, stacked chairs and a general sense of clutter on the other side which was preventing the Door from opening. Carefully placing the candle down, Jon braced his shoulder against the dark wood - using his whole weight to edge it open just a little more - and finally, after a few strong pushes, everything had been moved enough for him to be able to get through. Then he grabbed the candle again before squeezing himself through the small gap, quickly lifting the light up high so he could discover exactly where he had ended up.

~o~0~o~

**King’s Landing**

He was in a small room which was far more cramped than most of the ones he associated with the Dragon Doors. It could have possibly sufficed as a bed chamber but was more likely to be an office, with really only enough room for a small cot or a desk and a couple of chairs.

Now, though, it was apparently being used as a store room.

Jon quietly studied the clutter before moving a few objects around - stacking one box up on another, moving a couple of chairs - generally freeing up just enough space on this side of the Door to allow it to open more easily the next time. Then he moved forward towards the only other door here - the one obviously leading out - and rested his ear against it to listen for signs of activity from beyond. Once convinced all was quiet, he very slowly edged it open and peeked out.

The corridor on the other side was wide, high and brightly lit and Jon couldn’t help but gape in awe, having never seen anywhere quite so opulent in his life. Surely this was the heart of the castle? The royal apartments themselves, perhaps? The closest thing he could compare this with was the area in Dragonstone where he and Dany now slept. The Targaryens had ruled in King’s Landing for centuries, of course, so it made sense for their Door to be in the heart of the domain, even if the more recent rulers would have no understanding of what it or the room was for. Now all Jon needed to do was attempt to get his bearings before returning to Dragonstone. Perhaps find a window so he could see the sun or take note of some landmark to help him to get a better idea of the position? With luck Dany would also now be able to sense his direction relative to her so that, between them, they would be able to figure out where this was for future reference. With one final check on the corridor, he stepped towards the brightest light and turned the corner to see a descending flight of spiral stairs and there … a window halfway down. He edged towards it nervously, looking back up the corridor and then descending a couple of tentative steps.

“Halt!”

Jon had his sword drawn before he had fully registered the voice, spinning backwards to face the guard now approaching from the corridor he had just walked along. He took one step back up, sword in front of him, carefully taking note of the young soldier and calculating what he would now need to do. He had no desire to kill the man but he did need him out of the way so he could head back to the Door. Unfortunately there were more footsteps heading up the stairs behind him and then an additional two guards were in front of him as well. Jon understood the tactical advantages of spiral staircases all too well and knew he had no space to swing his sword in such a confined space. He urgently needed to head back up. He tried to escape by pushing hard on the first man who had climbed the stairs behind him, unbalancing him enough so he toppled against the next ones ascending behind him, before attempting the same trick on those in front as he tried to charge into some open space where he would be able to wield his sword.

He almost succeeded too, his tactics totally confusing the soldiers who had obviously not expected to find such a skilled intruder so deep within the royal apartments. Unfortunately there were simply too many of them and it wasn’t long before Jon was surrounded, disarmed and frog-marched down the spiral stairs and along an outside causeway surrounding a courtyard far below. He tried to turn his head and keep his bearings, hoping that he could somehow escape and find the Door again, but King’s Landing was as much of a maze as Dany had suggested and, by the time he was thrown down in front of the queen on an outside platform, he had to admit that he was completely disorientated.

“Who is this?” she demanded of her soldiers.

Jon had seen Cersei Lannister before but not for very many years. He could still recognise the beauty he had last seen up in Winterfell, although she was now very much changed; her dress dark and sombre, despite its grandeur, and with her golden hair now cut short. It was extremely unlikely she would recognise him though. Why would she have even thought to pay attention to the beardless young man standing behind the Starks when she had arrived with King Robert all those years ago?

“We found him in the royal apartments, Your Grace,” one of the guards replied. “A spy I assume. You did warn us to be on the look out.”

“Indeed.” She turned towards him. “Who sent you?”

Jon shook his head, wondering which answer would be least likely to get him killed. She was now looking at him very closely, a small frown on her face. Did she recognise him after all?

“Perhaps you came here with my brother, the Imp? I know he is here in the city to meet with Ser Jaime.”

She did? That was a surprise. He had hoped the others here were having more luck with their missions than he was.

“A silent assassin, perhaps?” she continued with a small tug of her lips. “Have you a tongue?”

“I have nothing to say to you,” he replied.

She tipped her head, another smile threatening. “Interesting. There _is_ something familiar about you, I must admit, but I can’t quite place it.” She turned back to the soldiers. “Did he put up much of a fight?”

“He was fairly well cornered on the stairs, my queen, but still managed to evade us for a while. No-one dead but it was clear that he knew how to use this.” The man indicated the sword and Cersei nodded for it to be brought closer.

“Good quality, certainly, but nothing special or distinctive.” She looked back up at him. “Did you come here to kill me, boy?” Jon simply shook his head. “To gather information then? Not especially skilled at it in that case.” When Jon said no more she simply shook her head sadly. “Let’s see if a night in the Black Cells will loosen your tongue a little. Think carefully about how important your loyalty is to my brother or this dragon bitch, if that is who you serve. Your answers tomorrow will determined how quickly and painlessly you die.”

Jon was hauled to his feet and dragged back out, instinctively struggling against such treatment only to be rewarded for his trouble by a swift punch to the stomach. The guard to his right seemed to find his response to this amusing and quickly delivered an even stronger on to his side but, despite the pain, Jon was still trying to get his bearings. Still trying to determine in which direction he was being taken.

Down, apparently.

He was already several floors below the Dragon Door and, from what he could recall of the Black Cells, was now likely to be taken even lower. In his pain and confusion Jon started to panic thinking he would be stuck here forever, left to rot or perhaps tortured and hanged tomorrow. It was only after several more hits and once he had been thrown bodily across the floor of the filthy, dark cell that he belatedly realised his mistake, and would have laughed if it wasn’t for the horrible pain now shooting through various parts of his body.

He wasn’t here. Not truly. He was still in Dragonstone. Or, at least, he was tied to the island by Targaryen magic which meant that he could not stay here in King’s Landing for any length of time. The moment he fell asleep he would get dragged back or perhaps even sooner if he was taken too far away from the Door. However the pull now felt considerably less uncomfortable than when he’d been hauled before Cersei and so Jon closed his eyes, forcing himself to slow his breathing as he attempted to sense it. There. Above his current position, obviously, and perhaps almost directly over his head?

If Dany was right about his experience in Winter Town all those years ago, then he would reappear in Dragonstone at exactly the same distance and direction from the Door as he was now. So, what was under the old wing on the island and what would that mean for his return? Would he appear in mid air? Deep underground? In the sea?

The fear returned then. The reluctance to fall asleep even though it was the only logical means of escape. And yet, even though that was likely to be the only way out for Jon now, willing himself to fall asleep wasn’t going to work either. Not with the pain in his body and the horrid smells and sounds surrounding him. Not when he had actually had a long, deep sleep the previous night and was now becoming especially nervous about where he would end up. So, for good or for bad, the pull back was not especially urgent and, for the time being, here he would remain.

Of course, there was also Dany to factor into his return. Where was she right now? If she suddenly decided to travel back to her camp then that would also throw him back. After all, he was only here in King’s Landing because _she_ was. The further apart they moved from each other, the more that strange, invisible rope would pull at him, urging him back.

Time dragged and Jon’s mind conjured up ever more dramatic and horrible scenarios for his return, and the uncertainty of exactly what would happen next was enough to keep him awake anyway. Hours had passed, he was sure, and now, finally, his eyes were starting to grow heavy. He mustn’t fight it. He _couldn’t_ fight it. He would have to trust in the magic of the Doors and hope it would return him safely to Dragonstone.

There was nothing else left for him to do.

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	21. Chapter 21

**Jon XXI**

**Dragonstone (7x06 AU)**

There is sometimes a point as you drift off to sleep where it feels as if you’re falling. Where the ground beneath you drops or you miss your footing as you descend a staircase. Jon had often experienced this odd dream sensation but what happened that night was quite literal, with him nodding off in the Black Cells under King’s Landing only to be jolted awake by the sensation of falling, followed by a sudden, terrifying landing.

Instead of a stifling, putrid atmosphere he was now breathing cold, fresh and salty air, but the darkness remained and he was _still_ falling – rolling downwards and reeling from the pain from the various cuts and bruises he’d received from the guards.There was soft grass and then hard stone against one of his injuries and Jon cried out, hands flailing as he tried to slow himself down. Then his palm hit against another stone and he changed tactics, rolling himself up a little, knowing it would speed up his descent but also give him the very best chance of surviving it.

Obviously he had been returned to Dragonstone, several floors below the castle as he had suspected, although still not quite at ground level. He rolled over an especially sharp stone and grunted as yet another wave of pain flared - old injury or new, he couldn’t be certain. Where was this descent taking him? A grass meadow? A sandy beach?

Over the edge of a cliff to his death?

He appeared to be slowing a little now, although his imagination had already conjured up several grisly fates for himself, and Jon steeled himself for the worse, thinking suddenly of Dany - the sound of her smile, the touch of her hand, the feel of her wrapped around him - and wondering if he would ever see her again.

‘ _I love you_.’

And then there was one last heavy jolt followed by an eerie silence as he held his breath, waiting for further movement or for the sensation of water or an increase in the pain. His ears started ringing loudly but, fortunately, he felt nothing but comforting softness underneath his bruised body and the aches did now appear to be easing slightly. Once satisfied that he was still alive and relatively intact, Jon hauled himself up into a sitting position with a groan, blinking in the darkness of the winter night as he attempted to get his bearings.

As the pain and the ringing eased he became more aware of the sound of the sea and the faint sparkle of stars peeking through the clouds. Behind him was a darker shadow of the hill he had just rolled down whilst, in front of him, a paler grey showing - a hint of moonlight reflecting off the sea. Jon remained in this position for a long time, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the minimal light here and for the pain to subside enough to allow him to move.

Finally he attempted to stand, wincing as a sharp spasm shot through his side and down one leg, his left knee giving way and not allowing him to put his full weight on it. He tested it again soon after, confident it wasn’t broken, despite the agony, and willed himself to be patient, staying where he was for a moment, half bent over, giving his body a chance to adjust to everything. Despite feeling cold, Jon quickly removed his metal gorget and dropped it on the ground at his feet. Not only was it aggravating one of his injuries but he also hoped it would help him to find this location when it was light so he could get a better understanding of where he had reappeared. Now feeling a little more comfortable, and with his leg beginning to accept his weight, Jon started to walk, limping first towards the sound of the sea in order to get his bearings and, from there, working his way back around to the main castle entrance.

Never had a walk felt quite so long and painful but, as his eyes continued to get used to the dark and his full senses returned, he began to recognise the shape of the castle above him and understand which way he needed to go. Fortunately one of the Dothraki guarding the imposing dragon gates recognised him, his words quite obviously a confused question as to how he had come to be out here and in this state. Despite neither of them understanding the other’s language, the guard quickly realised he was injured and allowed him entry, offering his assistance which Jon stubbornly refused, even though the man seemed determined to remain close until he was safely escorted inside.

“Your Grace? Whatever happened?”

“Missandei.” Her name was almost a sob, so relieved was he to see a familiar, friendly face at long last.

“You’re hurt.” She frowned. “I did not realise you had left the castle.”

“Sorry,” he replied. “I-it’s … difficult to explain.”

“More of this secret magic?” Jon winced and glanced at the Dothraki by his side but Missandei just smiled, turning to talk to the large warrior in his tongue and, he guessed, reassuring him that he could now return to his post.

“Daenerys did say she had explained some of this to you,” he said then as he walked beside her towards the royal apartments, trying hard not to limp.

“Some of it, yes, although she did not say exactly why you were to remain here without her.”

He simply nodded. “I’m fine now, thank you, Missandei. I’ll just return to our chambers and rest for a while.”

She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You are injured. I should attend you.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“The queen would never forgive me if I neglected you in this state. Come, I will have a bath readied for you and then get some medicine for your injuries.” He gave her a suspicious glare. “You cannot hide it. I can see from the way you walk and, now we are in the light, it is even more obvious that you have bruises on your face.”

He again tried to send her away, but Missandei was surprisingly insistent, rolling her eyes when Jon showed reluctance to undress in front of her and struggling to hide her amusement when he asked her to avert her eyes whilst he undressed.

“There is no need to be embarrassed,” she said as he hugged his shirt close to his bare chest. “I wish only to tend your injuries. A couple of them are in urgent need of attention.”

Modesty wasn’t the main reason for his reluctance, of course. The scars on his chest were not only a source of shame but opened him up to all sorts of awkward questions which he did not currently feel like answering. Missandei was a unique woman, however, showing no obvious surprise at the sight of those marks, nor reacting to his nakedness, simply examining his injuries before washing and tending to them. Then she finally allowed him to lie down properly before leaving to fetch him a tray of food and drink and a vial of medicine for the pain.

“If you refuse to take it, I shall be obliged to inform the queen when she returns,” the girl told him, her soft voice in no way hiding the contained threat. “I doubt she will be pleased to hear you were left in such pain?”

Jon glared at her, fully aware that he had already lost this particular battle, before downing the Milk of the Poppy in one go. It was not a good medicine to take if you needed to keep all your wits, but he knew he was safe here and the discomfort was such that he would probably struggle to sleep otherwise, something he now desperately needed. He had only managed a few mouthfuls of food before his eyelids grew heavy and he dropped back down on the bed, vaguely aware of Missandei around and then pulling a cover over him as he fell into a deep sleep.

~o~0~o~

“Jon.”

He sat up with a low cry, waking from a hazy, drug-induced nightmare of a never ending descent into darkness.

“Ssh, it’s fine. _You’re_ fine. It’s just me.”

“Dany?” He blinked to see his wife sitting on the bed by his side, her expression turning from concern to sudden, fiery anger as she lowered the covers on his bed and took note of all his injuries.

“What happened, Jon? Who did this to you?”

“I ….” He was still a bit disorientated. “Why are you upset?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because you’re hurt and I need to know who it is I have to kill.” He stared at her, honestly having no idea at that moment if she was joking or not.

“My own stupid fault,” he replied. “I let my curiosity get the better of me and got captured.”

“At King’s Landing?”

He nodded. “Got hauled in front of Cersei and then thrown into the cells when I didn’t give her the answers she required.”

“ _She_ did this?”

He shook his head. “Her guards. They didn’t appreciate me fighting back.”

“You fought back?” She folded her arms and glared at him. “Against how many?”

He winced at the look on her face. “Three? Four?”

“If you weren’t already hurt I’d punish you _so_ badly right now.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t usually mind your punishments.”

That finally managed to make her smile. “I think you’re too injured for _that_ right now as well.”

“Really?” He lay back down on the bed and lowered the covers a bit further, licking his lips slightly as he looked up at her. “I’m sure I can trust you to ride me gently?”

She was trying hard not to smile. “No, because I’m angry right now and will most definitely end up taking it out on you. Rest for a bit, my love and then you and I need to talk in more detail about what happened over there.”

“We can talk now.”

“No. Missandei told me I could only stay a short while. You need to sleep a little longer yet.”

He nodded, his eyelids already feeling heavy and, this time, it was Dany who settled him back into bed, gently kissing him gently on the forehead before darkness claimed him again.

~o~0~o~

**Dany XXI**

**Dragonstone (7x06 AU)**

It had taken all Dany’s self control to allow Jon to fall back asleep. She had so many questions about what had happened at King’s Landing and was impatient to discover what he had learnt there. Missandei was right though, her husband had a lot if injuries which, although not life-threatening, were bad enough for him to have required Milk of the Poppy and forced bed rest.

Once Jon was asleep, she headed downstairs to see if she could get any answers in the old wing and soon discovered her most up-to-date map lying out on the desk in Rhaenys’ suite, now with a few new additions in Jon’s neat hand. On it he had marked King’s Landing on the south-westerly facing door in _this_ room along with his guesses about the others facing that general direction. He had not returned through this Door though. The guards had informed her of her husband’s sudden appearance - filthy and quite obviously injured - at the front gate in the dead of night and Jon’s comment about being imprisoned now made it fairly obvious to her that the magic had forced him back once he had fallen asleep there.

Frustrated, she walked back out to the corridor and headed for the Winterfell Door, placing her palm on it to see if she could rediscover that new sensation - that strange, quiet hint of Jon that she now believed was the key to travelling backwards or forwards in time. It was getting clearer now, she realised. Perhaps simply because she was starting to have some understanding of what it was she was sensing, even if she did not yet know what to do.

Their bed was large enough that Dany felt she could sleep next to her husband without disturbing him that night, but Jon only woke a couple of times to relieve himself, eat a little and exchange a few quiet words and kisses with her before quickly falling back to sleep. Her worry for him meant her own sleep was rather disturbed and, when she finally awoke, it was to find herself alone in the large bed and with her husband nowhere to be seen. Concerned, she quickly got up and dressed and headed downstairs to the old wing, whilst also sending Missandei off to see if he might be elsewhere.

“Jon, you should have woken me,” she complained as she saw him sitting in front of the same map as she had studied the previous day. He looked up at her and she glowered as she took note of his pallor. “And you look tired and pale. You shouldn’t have even left our chambers.”

I wanted to check something,” he replied. “Wanted to confirm a couple of the Doors’ directions but then …” He winced. “Then I realised I needed to sit down for a bit.”

She rolled her eyes. “So stubborn.”

“I’m fine. I also thought I should make a few notes about King’s Landing and what I remembered about it while it was still fairly fresh in my mind.”

“Yes?” Her curiosity quickly overcame her concern and she moved over to another pile of papers. “I have maps of the capital and the castle here somewhere.”

“Oh, I hoped you would. My memories are a bit sketchy, I admit, but that’s probably because of the Milk of the Poppy.”

“You fell asleep in the cells?”

He nodded. “I got the impression I was not far away from the Door but … several floors below it. At some point I will need to go outside as I left a piece of armour at the bottom of a slope and I think that will also help us to work out where the Door is in King’s Landing.” He gave a small huff of a laugh. “I was terrified about falling asleep, Dany. I knew I was almost directly below the Door and had this fear of waking up several feet under the sea. As it was I landed halfway down a very stony slope and just kept rolling.”

“Ouch.”

He nodded. “Quite a few of my injuries are because of _that_ fall rather than from the guards.”

Now satisfied that he was comfortable enough Dany took a seat next to him at the desk and asked him to recount his tale from the beginning, adding her own thoughts on the pulls she had felt at various points as they both looked at the maps in front of them and made a number of guesses about the Door’s location. Once they had marked its likely position on the Red Keep map Varys had supplied, they realised that there was a surprisingly simple route up to it - despite being in the heart of the castle - an underground stairway that Dany guessed her advisors would know of only too well. Jon couldn’t hide his frustration at just how close he had been to having discovered it for himself.

“I turned the wrong way,” he complained. “Bloody annoying.”

“But you felt something else through the King’s Landing Door before you were able to step through?” she asked.

He nodded. “Whispers as before but also … It was as if there was some sort of map within the Door. Within the grain of it? I’m not sure how else to describe it.”

“Yes, that sounds about right. I was studying the Winterfell door again yesterday.”

There was a long pause before Jon spoke again. “I think we need to go and talk to Bran about this.”

She _had_ planned to travel to Casterly Rock next, but Jon injuries meant she would either have to go there on her own or wait until he was fully recovered. A trip to Winterfell though? That would definitely be less stressful for him. She was quiet for a while as she calculated the timings of it all before nodding her agreement.

“Back to bed for you for the rest of today then, Jon and tomorrow we’ll go outside to find this slope you landed on and confirm our Door guess. Then, as soon as Missandei allows it, I’ll fly us both to Winterfell and we can consult with Bran. I think you’re right. I think it’s going to be hard for us to get any more answers about the Doors until we’ve first discussed it with him.”

~o~0~o~

**Winterfell (7x07 AU)**

“I do not fully understand this magic,” Bran said once they had briefly explained their experiences. “So I’m not sure what help I can be.”

“We just wanted your insights into the nature of the past and future really,” Jon said. “We now know for a fact that we _have_ been visited by our future selves but are still not entirely certain how to go about it and were worried that we might … miss an important event somehow.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I escaped the Baratheon attack on Dragonstone by coming through the Door to Winterfell,” Dany told him. “But I’ve recently realised that the knight who helped me then was actually an adult Jon. I don’t think he was very much older than he is now so … what if he misses it? What happens if he can’t rescue me?”

Bran shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. Jon _has_ rescued you. That event happened and cannot now be changed. One way or another he will go back to that time, even if it’s by accident. Even if he’s trying to visit you in the present and suddenly finds himself there with no knowledge of how he even managed the feat.”

“That can’t be right though,” Jon said. “I mean … surely it’s possible for someone to go back and change the past? How will I know what to do? Dany can only remember parts of it as she was so young and scared at the time. I also have a couple of vague memories of her visiting me when I was very small but can’t say for certain _when_ they was or how old I was at the time.”

“I told you,” Bran said, “it doesn’t matter. Those things _have_ happened and so … they will happen. One way or another.”

“How can you be sure?”

Bran sighed and frowned, showing some rare emotion. Nervousness, perhaps? “I never did tell you what happened to Hodor.”

“I know he died,” Jon said.

“Yes, but it was more than that. I warged him in the present and the past at the same time and, in doing so, I … I _caused_ him to be Hodor.”

“I don’t understand.”

Bran sighed. “And I’m not even sure I do. I just know that it’s a circle and one that can’t be broken. I could not have prevented Willis from becoming Hodor because it had already happened in the past. Long before I was born.”

Dany exchanged a look with Jon who just shrugged, apparently just as lost by this conversation as she was.

“Is there anything you do differently when you touch a weirwood to see a past or future vision?” her husband asked then. “Is there a way you direct your thought to allow you to see different things?”

“Sometimes,” Bran replied. “I often do try to direct the visions and, if I’m looking at something that’s happening now, it nearly always works for me. The past is harder and the future even more so, probably because of the circle I was just talking about.” He shook his head. “No, not as simple as a circle it’s … more like a woven pattern in cloth. One thread tying past to present to future, all making a perfect but messy pattern. There are some things we can’t see - are probably not supposed to see - and then there are future events which seem to have changed by the time we get there. All I can do is try to focus my thoughts on the particular thread I want and then, if I’m lucky, that’s where I’ll end up. Sometimes I get shown something different though and quite often it was that vision I actually _needed_ to see.”

“I’m sorry. I’m lost again,” Dany admitted.

Bran nodded. “It is not easy to understand but all you can really do is try. Try to focus on an event you remember - Jon on rescuing you or you on visiting Jon when he was very young - and then grab at that thread. It might work, or you might end up somewhere else instead. It might not actually happen for another five years.” He paused, frowning. “I’m sorry if that doesn’t help much.”

The couple left Bran’s chambers in thoughtful silence, walking the short distance to the Dragon Door here, each placing a hand on its cool surface and trying to rediscover the odd feeling both had experienced before.

“You will probably have more luck than me whilst we’re here,” Dany said, moving her hand closer to his. “Seeing I’ve been in Dragonstone for longer and Bran thinks the past is easier than the future.”

Jon nodded, now obviously distracted as his hand chased the mysterious ‘whisper’ and moved a little closer to hers. She was distracted too but for an entirely different reason, her gaze on her husband’s handsome face as he closed his eyes and moved his forehead so close to the Door that it almost touched. Unable to resist, Dany lifted her own hand and placed it on top of his, briefly worrying it would distract him but having the strangest feeling that it might actually help.

He nodded. “It’s definitely you. I can sense it but I’m still not quite sure how to … connect?” He moved his hand slightly as she squeezed her fingers in-between his, now touching the wood too and wondering if it might make a difference.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked him. “ _When_ are you thinking about?”

“The time I rescued you,” he replied. “Seeing as that’s the only visit of mine that we know about for certain.”

“And I’m going to need to be at Dragonstone when I try this,” she realised. “At least if I’m going to focus on going back to when you were a boy here in Winterfell.”

Jon sighed loudly. “Perhaps it’s just as Bran said. Perhaps we’re not ready for any of this yet and that’s why it’s not working.”

“I just don’t like the idea of having so little control over it,” she admitted, her right hand still over his, her left now gently skirting up his back. “And all this business about circles and tapestries? I mean, what’s the point of going back in time if you can’t change certain aspects of it?”

“Perhaps.” Jon shuddered slightly as she continued to move her fingers up his spine and started to caress his hand with her right. “Are you trying to distract me here?”

“Why?” she replied innocently. “Is this not helping?”

“It’s helping with something,” he retorted, “but definitely not with focusing on the Door.”

“So, we obviously need a break,” she said as her left hand moved even lower and gently squeezed him through his trousers.

“Aye,” he said, his reply breathy. “I think I need to lie down for a little while.”

“Are you sore and tired?” she asked, smirking.

“Not yet,” he replied. “But I’m quite sure you will be able to change that.”

They were both tempted to grab at each other straight away but this Door was far too public for marking in the same way as they had the Pentos and Winterfell ones and, anyway, Bran was still nearby in his chambers. So, Jon impatiently took her hand away from where it was still exploring and tucked it firmly under his arm, marching her quickly down the corridor and from there across the small courtyard towards the Great Keep.

“There,” he said waving his free hand lazily. “That’s where I saw you at the well that one time.”

She nodded. “And before that?”

“In the corridor outside my chambers.”

“ _Just_ outside the Door,” she realised. “Which makes sense seeing what we were saying about having to stay close to it when we were very young.”

“And so that might be easiest for you to visit first for the same reason,” he suggested.

The conversation was interesting but they now had other things on their mind, both impatiently heading up the spiral stairs to Jon’s official chambers, this area generally quiet at this time of day when most people were busy working.

“How are your injuries now?” she asked as he closed the door behind them and started to undress.

“Why don’t you lie naked on my bed and we can find out,” he replied.

“Perhaps _you_ should be the one lying down?” she suggested. “I’ll ride you gently, I promise.”

She looked up with a smile which quickly fell as she realised Jon was already naked and very obviously ready for her. She licked her lips as he prowled towards her, thoroughly appreciating the view.

“Jon ...”

“I thought I told you to strip and lie on the bed,” he growled.

“I-I didn’t know it was an order,” she replied, hastily scrabbling to obey.

She loved so many things about their relationship but one of her favourites was the way their dynamic constantly changed with no rhyme or reason. Sometimes he would want to be in charge. Sometimes she would play queen and order him to submit to her and yet these things were rarely discussed beforehand or debated, both of them appearing to fall into today’s role automatically.

“It _was_ an order,” he confirmed, his voice sounding low and dangerous. “Lie on my bed and open your legs for me. You were teasing me down there by the Door and now you’re going to get exactly what you asked for.”

Dany finished undressing and did as he bid, her heart pounding in anticipation as she watched him, watching her as she exposed herself to him. He subtly licked his lips then and she wondered if he would taste her first or just take her straight away. The uncertainty excited her further and she wiggled impatiently, opening her legs even more, tempting him.

“Please, Jon. Whatever you want. I’m yours to command.”

He moved instantly, his head diving down between her legs - one hand under a knee to lift it higher whilst his mouth attacked her greedily - fingers quickly joining lips and tongue. Dany grabbed at his hair as her body shuddered almost immediately, knowing he was working hard to push her quickly over to the edge and that this was going to be aggressive and thrilling for both of them. Perhaps there was a pattern here after all. The last time had been cautious and gentle due to his injuries and next time he would probably make slow love to her as if to ‘apologise’ for such passion tonight. Not that she felt there was any need for that.

“I’m yours, Jon. You know I am. Prove it!”

He moved again, as quick as lightening. Her wrists now pinned above her head, his eyes full of fire as he hovered over her.

“You don’t fool me for a moment, woman,” he growled. “I know you like the idea of me being in control here but we both know how things are.” He was pressed against her, just edging inside very slightly and she whimpered, wriggling in his grasp. “We both know you have me totally in your thrall and at your instant command.”

She swallowed hard and shook her head, momentarily shocked at his words and their implication. “I love you, Jon. I would never … Ah!”

He thrust into her with such force that it moved her up the bed but she felt no pain, just waves and waves of pleasure as he took her, showing no signs of discomfort from his injuries. Dany was soon caught up in the passion of it all, his lips and his body claiming hers, quickly driving them both over the edge.

~o~0~o~

“Are you all right?” he asked as Dany snuggled up to him, his first thought her comfort after that especially passionate session.

“I was going to ask you the same,” she said.

“I’m recovered enough. Being with you takes the edge off the pain anyway.”

“Yes, but what you said then, near the end?”

“Hmm?”

“About me always being in control?” She looked up to find him frowning. “Was that part of the game or something that bothers you that you’ve not talked to me about?”

“No,” Jon replied quickly. “Not that. It was part of the game … mostly.” He sighed, obviously tired and she contemplated simply forgetting it, even though that probably wasn’t going to be good for their relationship in the long term.

“You don’t have to do anything I say or suggest, any more than I do for you,” she told him. “I know that you know that.”

“Aye. It’s just … You do things to me, Dany. When I’m with you I really don’t feel in control. Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Just not something I’m used to, is all. It’s … The thing is, you only have to smile at me in a room full of people and it tempts me to take you there and then.”

She giggled. “That would raise a few eyebrows.”

He managed to smile back. “I know, but it’s ... hard to explain. It feels at times that I have no control when I’m with you and yet … I wouldn’t have it any other way?”

There was part of her that was worried that he was just being kind and that she had done something to make him feel uncomfortable at some point. However, now that he had voiced his feelings, Dany realised that what he had said actually made perfect sense.

“I feel the same way about you, Jon. You’re the only man I’ve ever trusted to do whatever he wants to me with my full blessing. After my earlier experiences … Well, I thought I’d never be able to have someone else dictate things. I thought that that would make me feel afraid but, it never has. I suppose … if there is any hint of me controlling the pace sometimes it’s because of that. Because of my past?”

“I don’t want you to change, Dany,” he told her, kissing her passionately on the lips before continuing. “I love everything about you. I love it when you’re in command and I love it when you relinquish some of that to me. Please don’t take anything I said in the heat of passion to heart. Promise me?”

She nodded. “I won’t. I just wanted to make sure.”

“Good.” He kissed her again. “Now, let’s sleep for a bit and then I can prove to you again just how much I love you.”

“Oh? And how do you intend to do that?”

He laughed gently as he pulled her up against his shoulder. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're starting to get more seriously into the 'timey-wimey' stuff now, to quote Doctor Who. I've been watching that show since I was a small child, way back during the original run, and admit to being inspired by some of the more recent knotty plot stuff on the show which I loved trying to figure out. 
> 
> As ever feel free to ask questions or pose your own theories about this or any other part of the story and I will respond if not necessarily answer or confirm.
> 
> You are all wonderful, by the way. Have I said that recently? 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even Number Alert! 
> 
> Also time for a new moodboard by the wonderful [**the-last-targaryens**](https://the-last-targaryens.tumblr.com/)

**Dany XXII**

**Winterfell (7x07 AU)**

They spent a few days at Winterfell, allowing Jon to continue to recover as well as see the progress of the northern defence preparations for himself. Dany had to intervene and order her husband to rest on more than one occasion, using logic when her threats failed and reminding him that he would be of no use to her or to Winterfell if he overreached himself.

They had time still, she reminded him. Thanks to the Doors and her dragons, the pair of them could visit the south and return here promptly if there was a problem. Troops and supplies were now starting to arrive at the castles on the Wall, along with extra ravens to ensure that messages could be passed down quickly to all of the places now under Daenerys’ control.

The queen divided her time between exploring the castle - Ghost nearly always appearing by her side - socialising with Jon’s family and spending time in the First Keep; studying the Door when the area was quiet and making notes in her husband’s old chambers.

When she and and Jon finally headed out towards Drogon at the end of their visit, Rhaegal decided to land too, pushing himself in front of his larger sibling and making his thoughts perfectly clear.

“How are your bruises now?” she asked her husband.

He shrugged. “Fine. I’m healing quickly.”

“Only it looks as if Rhaegal would like some company on this journey south. Do you think you’re up for it?”

Jon looked up at the green dragon nodding a little apprehensively. “Aye. Let’s give it a go. It could be useful in the future, as you said, and it makes sense for me to attempt it when the situation isn’t urgent and we can take it slowly.”

“Yes,” Dany agreed. “Probably best not to leave it until the middle of a battle to start your solo flying.”

Jon winced at the thought and nodded, making his cautious way up the green’s back. He had flown with her on Drogon a few times now which would make this very much easier for him. She was still nervous though because, despite Rhaegal’s obvious enthusiasm, he was a dragon and such creatures’ moods were never easy to predict.

She flew them south slowly, constantly turning Drogon around to fly alongside Jon and check that his injuries were not causing him issues. They started by following the line of the Kingsroad - Dany occasionally swooping lower to check the progress of various soldiers and supplies making their way up to the Wall - before veering west at the Neck; over the Twins, the Riverlands and the Westerlands, and from then on towards Casterly Rock.

~o~0~o~

**Casterly Rock**

She and Drogon landed first, making sure there was a wide open space for Rhaegal to land with Jon. The green dragon didn’t seem at all concerned about having a passenger - his landing perfectly smooth - and Dany quickly dismounted so she could be there for her husband if he was struggling at all after the journey.

“Stop looking so worried,” he grumbled the moment his feet had touched the floor and she rushed over to him. “It was just a few bruises and they’re mostly healed now. No need to fuss.”

“How can I _not_ worry?” she said, learning up to kiss him soundly. “You did well though. No problems up there?”

“Rhaegal was being kind to me, I’m sure,” Jon replied, pulling a face. “I’ve seen the way you fly on Drogon when you don’t have passengers and I’m quite certain I’m not ready for those sort of antics.”

“Oh, what an excellent idea!” she exclaimed. “We’ll have to make sure your next journey with us is a little bumpier, just to prepare you for your future flights on Rhaegal.”

“That was not what I meant by it, woman, as you well know,” he complained, glowering at her as she giggled brightly. He then looked over at the impressive castle in the distance. “Didn’t want us landing too close then?”

“Probably best not to advertise you as a dragon rider at this point in time, no. Ready for a walk?”

Jon rolled his eyes and then nodded, offering his arm to her as they set off towards Casterly Rock, now firmly under Targaryen control. The larders has been restocked, repairs made and more soldiers brought in to defend it. As such Dany had no concerns about taking Grey Worm away from this command and back to Dragonstone with her. Once inside the castle, she introduced Jon to her key commanders here and then asked to be taken on a quick tour. They weren’t trying to find the Door here quite yet and, although it was always possible they would stumble across it by accident as she had at the Twins, she was really hoping she could discover it the ‘other’ way. Hopefully without the drama that Jon had experienced at King’s Landing.

So, once Dany was confident that everything was in order here, she accompanied Jon to his chambers, indulged in a long, passionate kiss - both struggling to end it here - and then reluctantly left him there to rest. Then she headed back out towards Drogon with Grey Worm by her side, ready to take her Unsullied commander back home with her.

~o~0~o~

**Dragonstone**

As they flew over Dragonstone, Dany caught a glimpse of Missandei running towards their position, although the young advisor had slowed to a more dignified walk by the time Drogon had landed. She waited patiently for the queen and her commander to reach the ground with her hands clasped demurely in front of her and eyes cast downwards. Taking one look at his queen for her approval, Grey Worm then moved towards her silently, holding out his hands for her to take.

Dany felt a quite rush of emotion as she watched the pair, enjoying the romance of it all. They had been passionate enough in private, according to her friend, but the sweetness of their reunion after so long apart was still quite delightful to behold.

She laughed at Missandei’s suggestion of attending her then, telling her that Grey Worm was far more in need of her advisor’s attentions and enjoying how they both coloured at the comment. In any case, Dany was in need of some of that attention for herself and was impatient to visit the old wing to see if she would be able to cross over to Casterly Rock now that Jon was there. First though, she would need to change into her dark clothing. She may well be heading to a friendly castle but was still not keen to be discovered and have to explain her presence, when everyone had seen her fly off on Drogon earlier that day.

She walked down the corridor, heading toward the suite opposite hers and to the larger of the two chambers within which, like all the spaces here, housed three Dragon Doors. Dany had always been fairly certain that the Door on the western wall here pointed towards Casterly Rock and was now able to confirm it, the pull faint, but clear enough, even from a distance. One of the other two Doors in this room pointed roughly north west - to either Pyke, The Twins or The Eyrie - whilst the south-westerly one was the only true mystery here, apparently not hitting any settlements on any of the maps she had studied.

A problem for another time though, she decided, heading confidently to the western Door and placing her palm on it. She gave a deep, satisfied sigh as the familiar, pleasant warmth ran up her arm.

“Jon,” she whispered. “Oh, how I need you.”

Then she turned the loop on the old Door, pushed it firmly and stepped through to sudden, total darkness, quickly returning to Dragonstone for just long enough to pick up a lighted candle before trying again.

~o~0~o~

**Casterly Rock**

The room here was small - although larger than the one Jon had described at King’s Landing - and Dany simply paced it for a while, having already agreed with her husband that he should try to find her first.

And he was on his way.

She was amused at just how obvious that was to her. How she could feel the pull of him moving gradually closer. It wasn’t really a surprise, of course. She had first fully understood the sensation as far back as Pentos when she had arrived in that unfamiliar manse and still managed to find her way to Viserys’ bedchamber to leave him her letter. The outer door rattled briefly and Dany had her hand on the dagger at her belt before she realised it, surprised by her reaction when she knew full well that it was Jon on the other side.

“This is a bit out of the way,” her husband remarked as she ran into his arms. “Definitely wouldn’t have stumbled upon _this_ one by chance.”

She nodded. “Show me?”

He looked at her closely, obviously checking her disguise, before leading her along a narrow, dark service tunnel and then up a flight of stairs to a rather more familiar corridor. They heard a sound then - a guard making his way way along on patrol - and both quickly dived into the shadows, Dany trying hard not to giggle at the absurdity of hiding from her own soldiers in her own castle. Jon’s hand on her waist slipped a little lower then, making it even harder to keep quiet, her glare in his direction going completely unnoticed in the darkness here.

“All clear,” he whispered, taking her hand and pulling her back towards his chambers. She moved closer, her hand on his waist quickly moving lower to get her own back, searching for her target and then gently squeezing. “Behave,” he growled.

“Make me,” she retorted.

She grinned as she heard his breath catch but her triumph was short lived. Within a heartbeat, she was being pushed back against the nearest wall, Jon’s lips on hers, his hand making its way between her legs to roughly caresses her there, quickly firing her up before he abruptly pulled away.

“Ssh!” he said, sternly.

“But ...”

She heard her husband’s failed attempt to muffle a laugh before his hand was back in hers, leading her around one more corner and then, finally, through the door of the chambers she had left him in earlier. Then she was back up against a wall before she had even realised it - Jon quickly lifting her skirts and expertly untying the breeches she always wore underneath, knocking her hands away when she attempted to undress him in turn. She willingly stepped out of her lower garments only to be immediately pinned back against the wall, his hand returning to caress her between her legs, fingers sliding inside her as she cried out and hooked one calf around his hip.

“Clothes …” she managed.

“No,” Jon growled. “No time for that.”

Instead, he lifted her up onto a nearby desk, placed her wandering hands on his shoulders and then quickly untied his own trousers before settling between her open legs.

“Here?” she gasped, the word swallowed by his lips as he pulled her a little closer to the table’s edge and quickly sheathed himself inside her.

“I love you so much,” Jon purred in her ear and, if Dany wasn’t already so close to finishing, she would have laughed at the strange contradiction; the pair of them mostly clothed, rutting aggressively on a desk whilst he whispered words of sweet love and adoration.

She started to reply, to tell him just how much she loved him too but his next thrust was deep, hitting the perfect spot inside her, and he claimed her mouth at the same time in order to stop her from crying out. Instead she grabbed at his hair and tugged, her other hand gently caressing his cheek, knowing that he was just as close as she was and wondering if there was any chance at all that they would be able to keep quiet as they finished.

~o~0~o~

**Jon XXII**

**Casterly Rock (7x07 AU)**

Jon gasped. His head was now on Dany’s shoulder and he was feeling far too hot after taking her on his desk whilst almost fully clothed. Right now though he didn’t even think he could move.

“I always feel as if I should apologise when I’m rough with you like that,” he said.

“Even though you know that I love it as much as you do?”

“Hmm,” he said, nuzzling at her neck. “I know I’ve said it before but I really don’t know what it is you do to me, Dany. That was not at all what I had in mind when I came to find you.”

“Oh, and what _did_ you have in mind?” she asked.

“You naked in my bed for a start.”

She lifted his chin and smiled at him, her eyes bright, her cheeks as pink as his felt. “Sounds good.”

“Gods, you are so beautiful. Even after being ravished on a desk.” He shook his head. “ _Especially_ after that.”

“But not as beautiful as you,” she countered as she ran a finger down his cheek.

“Stop teasing.”

She laughed. “I’m really not. Haven’t enough people called you pretty throughout your life for you to at least _start_ believing it?”

Jon shook his head, despite knowing she probably had a point. Any compliments about his looks when he was younger had always been eclipsed by comments about his status or, even worse, placed together to take the edge of the first. ‘Winterfell’s Pretty Bastard.’

“As long as _you_ like what you see, that’s good enough for me.”

She shook her head at him, amused or frustrated about something, although he wasn’t quite sure what.

“Get out of those clothes you beautiful wolf and take me to bed. I don’t want to fall asleep this far from the Door without knowing where I’m going to end up, so you’d better work hard to keep me awake.”

He smiled as they both started to undress. “Now, how do you think I might do that?”

“Well, let’s talk a little first and then, if I start feeling sleepy, you’d better show me what your original plan was for tonight.”

~o~0~o~

Jon woke up alone, sighing as he realised that Dany would now be back on Dragonstone and hoping she had made it back safely. Still, he wouldn’t have long to wait until he was with her again. Her plan today was to check in at the semi-permanent camp she had set up near Blackwater Bay before flying back up here to collect him. Assuming nothing more urgent came up in the meantime, of course.

He dressed and went searching for food, meeting with the soldiers and picking up from where he left off yesterday. They talked about strategy and weapons before Jon joined them for their morning training session, revelling in a chance to test his body after the beating it had received at King’s Landing and on the hill at Dragonstone. The soldiers here seemed impressed with his moves, although Jon felt no need to tell them he was still in a little pain and moving rather more slowly and stiffly than usual. He had gained skills that these men could not possibly understand though. In battle you learnt to deal the killer blow and then quickly move to the next opponent, but the fight in the north would not be so straightforward.

‘Killer blow’ meant rather less up there nowadays.

In the end there was a slight delay, with Dany turning up the following day, having got waylaid with some issues regarding King’s Landing. After checking in with her commanders, she returned to Jon’s chambers with him, her mind obviously on other things as she suggested he packed ready for the next part of their journey.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jon asked her.

“What? Oh, it’s nothing really. Just Cersei still refusing to admit defeat, and me running out of ideas on how to deal with her.”

“And, so …?” She could have quite easily asked him to collect his bag and meet her outside.

“Well ...” She smiled. “I thought … If we are going to talk it all through, I might as well be enjoying one of your massages at the same time.”

He nodded. “Sore?”

“Not at all,” she said, as she started to undress. “I just thought I’d lie naked on your bed for a bit. Assuming you’ve no objections?”

He laughed, pleased that there wasn’t anything seriously wrong. “Absolutely no objections from me.”

~o~0~o~

**Winterfell**

They set off during the afternoon, both of them flying on Drogon due to the large audience at Casterly Rock, neither of them wanting to advertise Jon’s ability at this point in time. Once in the air they headed towards and then over the Twins, before finding the Kingsroad and quickly travelling north.

During the journey, Dany held true to her early threat, often diving towards the ground without warning - ostensibly to check on her troops and wagons still travelling up towards the Wall. Further north she started to bank sharply for no real reason and Jon clung on tightly in response, aware that the moves were a deliberate test for him and yet in no position to scold her for it; the wind and snow making speech impossible at such a height.

The clouds were thick and low seated now and Jon had no idea how Drogon could tell where they were but, suddenly, they were descending again - this time far more gently - and the clouds parted abruptly to reveal the shape of Winterfell’s towers immediately in front of them. Jon gasping in surprise as he realised just how close to the ground they already were.

He was about to tell his wife off for her erratic flying but she turned around on Drogon’s back to smile brightly at him and his complaints instantly died in the face of such beauty. She craned her neck around even further to kiss him then - long and deep and passionate - and Jon was powerless to do anything but return it hungrily, suddenly quite loathed to let her go. Finally Drogon got bored, fidgeting in a way which made his view on his passengers’ antics quite clear.

“He’s right,” Dany said with a laugh. “You really should go now. We’ve both got lots to do and it won’t be long before we’re back together again.”

“You’re returning to Dragonstone now?” he asked her.

“Yes. So we can see each other through the Door soon. Tonight if the flight south is uneventful.”

Jon quickly dismounted, now more than used to hopping on and off dragons, and headed towards the castle, pausing only briefly to watch Dany fly away before resuming his journey towards Sansa’s office.

“Jon!” He had only made it halfway across the courtyard when Arya came running towards him. “You’re back.”

He laughed as the girl threw herself into his arms and he happily spun around.

“I haven’t been gone _that_ long,” he replied, teasing her as Dany often teased him

“I know but I always miss you all the same.”

He smiled, putting her down gently. “I’ve missed you too. You attending the meeting tomorrow?”

“Of course I am. After all, you get all the news first hand now that you’re flying around on dragons.”

He laughed. “True. It’s certainly better than waiting for ravens.”

“Oh, and you’ve got a visitor.”

“Really? Who?”

“Samwell Tarly from-”

“Sam! Sam’s here?”

“He asked after you when he first arrived but then seemed keen to talk to Bran for some reason.”

“They crossed paths at the Wall once,” Jon explained, “but I imagine those two will get on pretty well even now.” He grinned brightly, moving his hand to ruffle her hair before she could stop him. “I’ll see you later, little sister.”

“Hey!”

He was already running towards the First Keep, excited about this latest reunion. Dashing down the corridor and knocking impatiently on Bran’s door, waiting for a response.

“Sam,” he called out just as soon as he entered. “Arya just told me you were here.”

“You’re back.” His friend stood up so quickly he knocked down the small table next to him, his attempt to apologise interrupted as Jon caught him up in a rough hug.

“Gilly? The baby?”

“They’re both here with me, yes.”

“Good. I have _so_ much to tell you.”

“Well, yes. That's probably because of how few ravens you’ve sent me over the last couple of years,” Sam complained. “You could have written more often.”

Jon grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. I’m not very good at that.”

“You look different,” Sam said then. “I hardly recognise you with your hair like that.”

Jon shrugged. “More practical this way.” He turned to look at Bran. “What have you two been talking about?”

“You mostly,” Sam replied instead, suddenly serious. “I came here with a large bunch of old books and scrolls plus some other information for you, only to have Bran tell me the news of your parentage.”

Jon just gave his brother a curious look. “It came up in passing,” Bran replied. “Although, once Sam learned who your parents were, he was able to fill in another piece of the puzzle.”

“Oh?”

“Ah ...” His friend winced and hesitated. “P-perhaps you’d better sit down for this?”

“All right … why?”

“Because, whilst at the Citadel, I was required to transcribe a whole bunch of neglected scrolls,” Sam said, “and, amongst them, was the High Septon’s diary from around the time of Robert’s Rebellion.”

Jon nodded. “What’s that got to do with me?”

“In it he records Prince Rhaegar’s annulment of his first marriage and his subsequent joining to ... Lyanna Stark.”

Jon sucked in a breath. “They … they were married?”

Sam nodded. “Which means you’re not a bastard and … well you actually have a good claim to the Iron Throne.”

“What?”

“You’re the legitimate heir,” Bran announced whilst Jon grabbed the seat of his chair with both hands, feeling for a moment as if the whole room had tipped.

“Well, a council is very likely to rule in your favour, it’s true,” Sam replied. “I mean, if they will accept this evidence, of course. But I think there is some doubt about who would have inherited if the Targaryens had won the rebellion and all survived and yet, with Aerys’ state of mind at the time and with the Baratheons _actually_ winning and-”

“Sam! Stop!” Jon said. “Give me a chance to catch up.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“And no more talk about my claim to the throne, if you would. Especially not in front of my wife.”

“Oh, yes … Bran told me about that.” Sam winced. “Ah, congratulations.”

Jon smirked at his friend’s reaction. “Are your southern sensibilities struggling with the idea of me knowingly marrying my aunt?”

“No, no … of course not. Northern practises and Targaryen practises, as you say and I suppose … well, all of this Iron Throne business makes no real difference now the two of you are married?”

“Exactly. Dany has been assuming we’ll rule jointly anyway.” He shook his head. “I’ll have to think carefully about how to break this news to her though. She _should_ be happy about it. If I don’t drop it on her too abruptly.”

“It explains a lot though,” Sam continued. “Knowing what we do about Rhaegar and of Lyanna? I think now it makes it even more obvious why you are as you are.”

“Oh?” Jon asked, looking at him suspiciously.

Sam laughed a little nervously. “No, I’ll keep quiet now. No need to upset my king.”

Jon groaned. “Please don’t.”

“There is one more thing though,” Bran said. “After Sam and I first talked about this yesterday I went back to the tree to confirm it. I told you before that I saw a vision of my father promising Lyanna to take care of you? That I saw you as a new born baby?”

“Yes?” Jon asked nervously, wondering where this was going now.

“Well it was all a bit confusing at the time and didn’t entirely make sense so I went back to revisit the vision. Just to be sure.”

“To be sure about what?”

“About your name.”

He frowned. “I suppose … I really _am_ Jon Targaryen then?”

“Targaryen, yes but Lyanna actually named you Aegon just before she died.”

“What?”

Bran nodded. “Your true name is Aegon Targaryen.”

“But … that can’t be right. Rhaegar’s eldest son by Elia was called Aegon.”

“That’s true,” Sam said. “How odd.”

“I agree it doesn’t make sense but it is what Lyanna said.”

Jon shook his head. “No, that is of no importance. I’ve felt no need to even mention my parentage at this point in time because I honestly didn’t think it would be helpful. Marrying Daenerys as an apparent Snow means I can call myself Targaryen without any awkward questions being asked, but the rest of this news will stay between us, our sisters and Daenerys.”

“But ...”

Jon held up a hand. “Perhaps in time there will be a need to tell others but, right now, none of it is especially helpful. I’ve only just reached the point where I’ve got the majority of the realm united against the Night King. There’s no point in suddenly making any dramatic announcements that might upset all of that.”

A knock on the door brought a halt to any further conversation - Maester Wolkan having arrived to take Bran back out to the tree. Sam and Jon both started to leave then too, promising to catch up later when they had had a chance to rest. However, once in the corridor, Jon felt a sudden pull from the Dragon Door behind him and quickly made his excuses to Sam, heading back and looking around nervously, worried about his wife stepping over now when the place was quite so busy.

But it _couldn’t_ be Dany he realised. She had left here less than an hour ago and there was no way Drogon could have reached Dragonstone already. With another quick check of the corridor, Jon opened the door to his old chambers and waited, knowing that someone was about to step through, even though the sensation seemed a little different this time.

It felt far more specific, he decided, a thin, pale thread rather than a coarse dark rope, something being woven through the wood rather than pulled. Then the Door opened away from him and a tall, hooded figure stepped over the threshold. Jon stared for just a moment before stepping through to his chambers without a word, hoping the visitor would get the hint and follow him.

“There are a lot of people around at the moment,” he explained once they were safely inside.

The figure nodded as he lowered his hood and Jon gasped as he stood face to face with a silver haired Targaryen who looked enough like Viserys for him to be left in little doubt of the man’s identity.

“Rhaegar?”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you were wondering if he'd show up again! 
> 
> With Sam's arrival at Winterfell, all the canon story lines have finally intersected with the Door plot. This fic is fully AU from now on.
> 
> And talking of 'from now on' ... After a 'Bath Revelation on Monday', which had me stunned at the way this fic seems to be writing itself at times, I am now pleased to say that I've got the final Act 5 knots untangled and can guarantee my weekly updates until the 16th December. As I already have Act 6 very roughly plotted, it's very likely that I can now go all the way through to the end without a pause, which I would never have believed when I nervously started getting this one out in May.
> 
> Also ... this fic has just gone over the 100K mark. OMG!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon’s conversation leaves him reeling emotionally whilst Dany’s visit to Winterfell has her reeling literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **FYI:** Despite having read the books, all my GOT fanfics are show-based with nothing more than an occasional, obscure hint regarding book plot. I wanted to clarify this here because I will start to mention dates from this point on and the asoiaf and GOT wikis show a two year discrepancy in the key historical events during Robert's Rebellion.

**Jon XXIII**

**Winterfell (7x07 AU)**

“Rhaegar?” Was it a coincidence that Jon had only just now learnt the full truth of his parentage?

“Yes,” the man replied, his voice deep, quiet and gentle. “And I have met you before.”

“You have?” Jon frowned, trying to work that one out.

“You visit me in the future.” Rhaegar’s face appeared pale, his expression stern, but his eyes were sparkling a little as he contemplated the young man in front of him.

Jon’s eyes widened. “I do?”

“Well, _your_ future. My past.” He saw Jon’s expression and smiled sadly. “Yes, it is confusing. Far too confusing. Visiting the past is one thing but, the future?” He shook his head. “Such journeys are not to be undertaken lightly.”

“So I _do_ manage it? I will be able to visit a different time?”

“Yes, I’ve been visited by both you and Daenerys,” Rhaegar replied, “but that’s the main reason for my being here. I’m here to warn you not to attempt to change the past. Aemon tried to tell me but I would not listen. So obsessed with prophecy that I could not see how badly I was abusing this gift.”

"We … we’ve been told some of that already.”

“Good.” He nodded firmly. “And do not deliberately attempt to view the future. It only causes grief and heartbreak when you see bad things, get glimpses of your own fate and try to change things. But it can’t be done. Gods knows I tried. And I just kept visiting and planning and desperately trying to fix the things I saw but, in doing so, I only made it all come to pass. I think, perhaps, I even made things worse.”

Jon frowned. “I-I’m not sure I understand all of that but … I will try to remember.”

“Good.”

Rhaegar turned another sad, soft smile his way and Jon felt a sudden jolt of emotion as he recognised something of himself in the expression and perhaps a little of Dany too. He knew he should be concentrating on this conversation and probably asking some very specific questions but his brain was struggling to focus on anything much at the moment.

“You … you know who I am?” he asked cautiously.

“I do,” Rhaegar replied, taking a small step forwards. “I knew instinctively that you were my son when you first visited me, but I only recently realised that you were Lyanna’s not Elia’s.” He sighed, shaking his head. “That was my fault. Too obsessed by prophecies. Always so sure I knew my role, even when my errors started to come to light. I should have remembered that a baby’s hair colour often changes. I should have noticed your accent. I should have recognised her in you and you in her.”

Jon had no idea how to respond to that – still having far too many emotions bubbling away inside him and far too many questions on his lips. This was his father. Someone he had heard so much about and yet had not set eyes upon until today. _His father._

“I only recently found out that I’m your son,” he admitted quietly. “I never knew anything about my parents. I thought … I was told I was a bastard.”

Rhaegar shook his head. “I’m sorry. I know you probably hate me. I know you have many things you want to say but … be careful. Most of the things you know of have not yet happened for me. All this travelling means that I am aware of some of it and have guessed the rest but, all the same, these visits to the future are not to be undertaken lightly.”

Jon frowned, trying to think of everything from Rhaegar’s point of view and what he would and would not yet know. “What year is it for you?” he asked.

“281,” the man replied.

Jon tried hard not to let his emotions show, simply nodding in response. That was the year he had been born and Rhaegar had died. “I see.”

“But I want to know more about you before I’m dragged back,” the man continued, perhaps a little too brightly as he continued to look at Jon closely. “Tell me about you and Daenerys. You have always been there for her. Even as a boy. I know that now.”

Jon could not help the broad smile that spread across his face at the mention of her name. “We are married now and so happy in that part of our lives, at least. There are many bad things happening in the realm at the moment - so many threats, as there always are - but I have her and she has me and that, at least, makes things better.”

“Good.” Rhaegar nodded, his serious expression back in place. “I am aware that things have not gone well for House Targaryen. I tried …” He sighed. “When I started to realise how it was all going wrong I tried to fix it. I need you to know that. ”

“I understand,” Jon said, “and … and I don’t hate you. I think as Dany and I explore this magic it will start to become more obvious to us why you did the things you did.”

“So like your mother,” he said. “So kind. So forgiving.”

Jon ducked his head and shook it, denying the words even as tears stung his eyes. “Not always.”

“Still it is a comfort to me,” Rhaegar continued. “To know what you and my sister will become. How you two are the Song of Ice and Fire. How you have already ensured the future of our House and of the whole realm.”

Jon frowned. “What do you mean? How can you know what we will become if you’re from our past?”

Rhaegar shook his head, wincing, his face deathly pale. “I cannot stay much longer but I want you to know that I am proud of you. ‘The Dragon has Three Heads’. I thought that that was _my_ destiny but I got it all wrong. They are yours, not mine. Yours and Daenerys’.”

He turned to leave but Jon moved quickly towards him. “Wait ...”

“I cannot. Time is running out. I understand that now. I realise why it has become so much harder to travel recently. Why the threads have started to unravel.”

Did he know? Was there anything Jon could say or do to prevent what happened at the Trident or was that exactly what he had just been warned against.

“Rhaegar.” Jon’s voice was little more of a whisper as he stepped forward to intercept the man, to try to express something of what was in his heart at that moment. “Father ...” And then he was being hauled into a fierce hug, pressing his face against the taller man’s chest to hide the tears that were now falling freely. “I just wish ...”

“Take care of Daenerys. Take care of my sister and my grandchildren. I know now that you have the character and strength to ensure the successful future of House Targaryen.”

And then Rhaegar disappeared. Gone so quickly that Jon had no idea whether he had walked out or had been thrown back by the magic. Either way, his eyes were now too full of tears to see much, his emotions to intense to think clearly and all he could do was collapse onto the small bed here and cry in a way he had not been able to for years.

~o~0~o~

**Dragonstone**

Jon struggled to find the will to move for quite some time, not wanting to leave this room but equally worried that someone would come looking for him and find him in this state. In the end it was the faint pull from the Door in the corridor that roused him, knowing he had to face Dany at some point and deciding he would rather go over to Dragonstone than risk her coming here when there were so many people around. Hopefully he would get away with disappearing from Winterfell this evening. It had been some time since he had left here via magic, after all.

There was very little water left in the wash bowl here, but Jon splashed the few remaining drops on his face, knowing he’d not be able to hide his emotional state from Dany but feeling he needed to at least attempt it. By the time he had walked into the thankfully empty corridor and pushed open the Dragon Door, he was confident that he had his emotions fairly well contained. Unfortunately, it only took one look at his wife, pacing the living room as she waited for him, to bring everything flooding back and any attempt at stoicism disappeared the moment she rushed over to him, a look of concern on her face.

“Jon, whatever is the matter?”

“Dany ...” He strode towards her and pulled her tightly against him, his head dropped down on her shoulder as he started to cry again.

“What’s happened? Is it your family?”

“No, they’re … they’re fine. It’s not that. It’s not ... them.”

“Then what?”

“I met … I saw ...” He sucked in a deep breath. “I got a visit from ... Rhaegar.”

She pulled back so suddenly that he stumbled slightly, immediately reaching out to take her hands back into his and realising in that moment just how much he needed her. She hadn't moved far though, soon returning to him and only taking her hands from his so she could place them gently on either side of his face.

“In Winterfell?”

He nodded. “He said … He said he’d met me before.”

“He saw you when we were children?”

“I’m not sure but, no, that’s not what he meant. He said ...” Jon frowned, struggling to put the emotions to one side and recall what was actually far more important. “He told me that I had visited him before. That we both had.”

“But … we don’t know how to.”

“Not yet, but we know we go back in time to visit each other at some point, so obviously we manage it with Rhaegar too.”

Dany groaned. “I find this all so confusing.”

Jon nodded. “We’ll have to write it down. Make a note of the visits we know about and try to figure out how it all works. I honestly don’t think we can contemplate trying it ourselves until we understand that much, at least.”

“That’s a good idea.” She held out a hand to lead him towards the desk. “You’re upset, Jon. What else did he say?”

“A lot of interesting things … confusing things, but that’s not why I’m upset. It was just seeing him … my father … especially after ...” He then remembered what else he had learnt that day and groaned.

“Jon?”

“That wasn’t everything that happened today. Before that visit I met up with my friend Sam from Old Town and he had … news.” He shook his head, still fighting to gain control of his erratic emotions.

“Come next door, Jon,” Dany said, gently. “Let’s get comfortable on the bed and you can tell me everything from the start.” He raised an eyebrow. “Fully clothed and just talking. None of that.” Her tone was now gently scolding. “Let’s see if we can make sense of everything.”

He gave a humourless laugh as he walked into her room, arranging the pillows and covers so they could both sit up and then throwing his arm around her shoulder as she snuggled up against him.

“I don’t know that there’s very much sense to be had here,” he replied. “But I suppose it’s worth a try.”

~o~0~o~

**Dany XXIII**

**Dragonstone (7x07 AU)**

“Aegon? Are you sure?”

Jon nodded. “Bran is. He said he saw a vision shortly after my birth. Of Lyanna telling Eddard my true name.”

They were now lying down on her bed, much as they had done as children; fully clothed and facing each other, hands gently stroking arms and faces.

“I’ve had visions too,” Dany said quietly. “Nothing like the detailed ones your brother describes but … dragon dreams and I also heard the name Aegon mentioned in one of mine. However, there it was Rhaegar naming the ‘Prince that was Promised’ but I assumed … I always assumed that was Elia he was talking with, not Lyanna.”

“Rhaegar had died by the time I was born,” Jon said. “So, if yours was a true vision then it probably _was_ Elia and Aegon-” He pulled a face. “The Aegon we knew, I mean.”

“It is all very odd,” she agreed, “but Rhaegar said something to you about errors? Perhaps he was referring to that?”

“It’s possible. He was upset during the visit. Distressed I would say. He was talking a lot about mistakes and prophecies and how time travel could cause serious problems but, not only did I not really understand everything he was saying, I was a bit too stunned by the visit to take everything in. I can’t even recall the whole conversation.” He winced. “Sorry.”

Dany shook her head, frustrated that her husband would be upset about that considering everything he’d just been through. “Well, you will meet him again, apparently, so we can perhaps get some more answers then. Or perhaps I can visit him once we’ve discovered how all of this works?”

Jon nodded, closing his eyes briefly. “I knew he was about to come through, or rather, I realised that _someone_ was and that it felt very different to usual. I … I’m not sure how I can describe it, but it’s like what Bran said about a tapestry and I think Rhaegar was talking about threads too.”

“Threads?”

“We’ve talked about the rope tethering us to home before?”

“Yes?”

“Well, this seemed so much thinner. More precise. A bit like before when I said it felt like I was tracing a route on a map but, yes. A pattern within the wood. A thread in a tapestry.” He sighed deeply. “That’s the closest I can get to describing it. Perhaps it’ll be worth checking the Door again once I’ve calmed down a bit. See if I can make sense of it now I have those few extra clues.”

“That’s a good idea,” she replied, reaching over to pull the tie out of his hair, snuggling a bit closer as she started to run her fingers through his curls. He sighed deeply, eyes closing at her touch, shuffling slightly downwards to allow her to caress him more easily. “I think I might like to try it now that you’ve described it to me.”

In fact, putting what Jon had just said together with her own thoughts, she thought she might even have an idea of where to start.

“I think we just need to keep trying,” he agreed. “It’s like Bran said. We now know that we master it at some point, so it’s just a matter of when.”

“Yes,” she replied. “Rhaegar knew about us, you said?”

“He seemed to, and I then confirmed it. Told him we were married. He didn’t appear surprised by the news.”

Dany groaned. “I’m still having trouble getting my head around all this past and future stuff.”

“I think I’m starting to understand,” Jon replied. “At some point in the future we will go back and tell Rhaegar things about us. Things that we don’t currently know. Then, afterwards, he travels forward in time to visit me today and tells me he’s proud of what I will achieve. What we will achieve together.”

“That’s a good sign, I suppose?”

Jon sighed. “I suppose. But the main thing I got from him was a warning. Mostly about travelling to the future.”

“Hardly an issue at the moment. Bran says that’s even harder to master than the past.”

“That's true.” Her husband’s eyes were flickering, although he continued to gently stroke her arm.

“Tired?”

He smiled. “Aye. Sorry I can’t be of more use to you right now. This is not exactly the way I should be taking you to bed.”

“As if that’s the only reason I want to be here with you,” she scoffed. “You’ve had a trying day, Jon. Just relax and go to sleep. You know you always find that so much easier with me here.”

“I do. Thank you.” He closed his eyes and shuffled a little closer, nuzzling against her shoulder. “I love you so much, Dany.”

“Sshh.” She pulled him closer still, kissing the top of his head as he so often did to her, continuing to run her fingers through his hair. “Just sleep, my love. I’ll fly back up to Winterfell to be with you very soon.”

~o~0~o~

Dany woke up from her dream with a low cry. There was a clear image in her head now. An idea.

It was barely dawn but she was up out of bed before she had consciously thought about it, grabbing the black scarf and hooded cloak she wore when visiting Winterfell and striding confidently out into the corridor.

She had had a strange dream about the Door, although it was hard to recall the specifics at that moment. All she knew was that there were Images and thoughts just on the edge of her memory that melted like snowflakes when she tried to grasp them. Just a flash here or there, nothing more. However, as she placed her palm on the warm wood of the Door, she felt it again. A map. A tapestry with a strange, abstract pattern. Something below the warmth and pull of Jon asleep in his chambers in the present and more of a sense of lightness and laughter. It was just as Jon had said. There was the thick rope, pulling her urgently towards her husband here and now but, underneath that, something quieter and more subtle. Numerous tiny threads of warmth radiating outwards and weaving up and down.

There! One just a little clearer than the others. One that seemed to lead quite obviously from here to … there. Dany had no idea where ‘there’ was but she grabbed at the thread anyway. Held on tight and allowed the idea of it to grow in her mind.

_Jon._

She knew it was him but … not the one sleeping next door. It was warm there. Light and bright and …

Taking a deep breath, she took hold of the ring of the Door and pushed.

~o~0~o~

**Winterfell**

Stepping over the threshold felt very different this time. It was as if the air had grown thick around her and she was wading through fast flowing water. All her senses appeared heightened, sounds buzzing loudly in her ears, light dazzling her eyes, the smell of smoke and oil and … Winterfell making her feel delightfully dizzy and overwhelmed.

Each step was an effort though. She may have imagined a thread, but the pull back home was now a dozen ropes yanking at her and it was a struggle to walk down the corridor which looked both beautifully familiar and strangely different. It wasn’t just in her mind though. It _was_ warmer and lighter here. Had she done it? Had she really just stepped back in time? Back to a summer day many years ago?

But when?

Dany turned to her right initially, heading towards Jon’s chambers. She knew he was there now in _her_ time but she was also sensing a different sort of pull from down the corridor. Quite unable to resist, she opened the door to his room, gasping as she recognised it, vaguely, as looking more like Jon’s chambers from her youth. She stared, blinking, trying to get her bearings. Trying to work out exactly _when_ she was.

It was not going to be easy to move away from the Door, but she could now feel Jon’s presence here and focused on it, hoping that _that_ pull might help counter the powerful drag back home as she took slow, steady steps down the corridor and towards the entrance of the keep. She could already feel the genuine warmth here and was now certain that she had successfully travelled back in time but, all the same, the feel of the air and the sight of a snow free courtyard as she stepped outside still had her gasping in surprise.

Dany thought perhaps it all felt a little easier now. The drag back home a little less intense? Perhaps that was because she was getting used to the sensation or maybe because she was now closer to Jon. The Jon here and now.

He was south of her, she realised, but moving quickly closer to her position. She looked up, trying to judge the time of day, despite her limited knowledge of being so far north during this season. Early morning for them too, she guessed, but not so much that he was still in his bed chambers. Probably he was returning from breaking his fast.

Being here seemed easier now, even if it still felt as if she were walking with weights in her boots. She stopped at the well and leant on it as she tried to catch her breath, doing her best to focus on Jon rather than the pull back home.

And then two figures came striding through the archway from the main courtyard, chatting away. Two young boys. One with reddish brown hair and the other black. Dany took one look at the pair and almost melted, slapping a hand across her mouth to stop her from crying out in delight. Gods, how had she forgotten how cute Jon had been back then? How old was he here? Eight? Nine?

“And then we climbed to the top of the wall as the sun was setting and ran all the way along the top of it,” Robb was saying.

“Father would have told you off for that,” Jon replied quietly. “You know he doesn’t like us to explore so late.”

“He only said we can’t do so when it’s dark.”

Jon rolled his eyes, unimpressed at the sophistry, and Dany again had to muffle her amusement on seeing such a familiar reaction on this far younger version. “That sounds like an excuse Theon would make.”

“And one you would have gone along with too had you been there,” Robb said, turning towards him as they both briefly stopped walking. “But, where were you, Jon? Theon and I looked everywhere last night.”

“In the First Keep, of course. I’m there most evenings.”

Dany smiled at this. Chances were he had been with her in Dragonstone, but this was years before he had worked out what was really going on with the Dragon Door.

“We couldn’t find you,” Robb told him, already moving down the path that lead to the armoury.

“You didn’t look hard enough then,” Jon countered, his expression _so_ serious and earnest that Dany lost the battle and allowed a laugh to escape.

The boy turned then, looking at her, blinking and making her catch her breath, her hand automatically going to her hood to check that her hair was well covered. Would he recognise her? Would he ..? Oh!

She remembered now. Jon had told her about this. Dany looked down in surprise, having almost forgotten that she was currently leaning against the very well he had recently pointed out to her.

She glanced back up to see Jon still staring, his head tipped, mouth slightly open and recalled what he’d said about having been enamoured by her, even as a young boy. Unable to resist she smiled brightly at him and winked. The boy swallowed hard, his eyes widening before he quickly scurried away after Robb. Dany couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, but her amusement quickly turned to a groan as she felt the pull return, getting steadily stronger as young Jon moved further away from her.

A sudden yank had her gasping, turning around quickly and rushing back towards the First Keep, the drag now _so_ strong that she had to run to keep from being knocked over. Her stomach clenched as light glared, sounds buzzed and the pull increased, urging her home. Dany made it as far as the Guards’ Hall before it became quite impossible to keep to her feet and soon she was flying forwards, throwing out her hands to break her fall onto the courtyard cobbles, only to land instead on light grey flagstones. She cried out as she fell - not from pain but from shock - before quickly rolling up into a ball as she fought the urge to throw up and waited for the buzzing in her ears to subside.

Some time passed.

Slowly, nervously, Dany opened her eyes and began to uncoil, still feeling very delicate but now far too curious _not_ to move. She glanced around to find herself in a corridor. No, _her_ corridor. The one at Dragonstone just outside Rhaenys’ old suite. She looked up and along it, her gaze drawn to a rather blurry Winterfell Door as she came to terms with what had just happened and what she had managed to accomplish. She had actually done it. She had gone back in time to when Jon was a young boy. Fourteen? Fifteen years ago?

“I have to tell him,” she mumbled, starting to rise but immediately falling back down as the dizziness overtook her. By the time she had finally made it to her feet - both hands on the wall for support - it was all she could do to edge her way back to the door of her suite and she knew then that she would be doing no more travelling for a while, not even to the present.

With a small sob Dany willed herself to make the final few steps to her old chambers before collapsing on the bed and falling asleep straight away.

~o~0~o~

**Dragonstone**

The next thing she was aware of was Missandei talking to her. Asking her questions that she was quite unable to answer and offering to help her return to her official chambers, something Dany knew she was not capable of even if she _had_ wanted to leave this wing. Considering what had happened though, she felt she should remain here in order to talk to Jon as soon as possible and so asked Missandei if she would bring down some food, a change of clothes and water so she could wash.

The next time Dany woke she felt a little steadier and ate far more than was her custom, her stomach finally settled, telling Missandei that she wished to stay here until she was fully recovered.

“Is this something to do with this Door magic?” the girl asked.

“Yes,” Dany replied, now especially pleased she had let her friend in on most of the secret. “I need to stay here for a little longer so I can talk with Jon.”

“Very well,” Missandei replied. “Probably best you don’t walk all the way over there anyway. Is there anything else you need?”

“I think I have everything except ...” She groaned. “Do you think there’s any chance I can get a message over to the camp to explain why I’m delayed?”

“Not directly,” her advisor replied. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

Once Missandei had left, Dany flopped back down onto the pillow as she wondered if she might soon feel up to visiting Jon again. But why had he not come through to see her? He must have felt the pull of her from his chambers on the other side and realised she was still down here.

Was he still upset and struggling after all the revelations of the previous day? Had he decided to spend some time in his chambers in the Great Keep? Or was there some other reason for his absence?

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a good side effect that the nature of this fic allows characters to meet who could never do so in canon. Rhaegar and Jon!  I remember calmly planning that scene out before it suddenly hit me just how emotional it was going to be.
> 
> And so, Dany's finally managed to time travel. Her experience in Winterfell was the first time I've written something we've already witnessed from the other side and I had _such_ fun tying it all in. More of these coming up but you will need to go back to the end of chapter 2 if you want to revisit the well scene from young Jon's pov.
> 
> This is definitely starting to get more complicated now. Feel free to ask questions if anything is not clear. 
> 
> And speculations too please, as there are so many little clues dropped in this chapter, including Dany's question at the end about what we might be seeing when we visit Jon in the next chapter.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep an eye on the headers within this chapter as we're doing a bit of time travelling of our own and will be skipping back to follow what Jon's been up to.
> 
> And ... even number alert again! 

**Dany XXIV**

**Dragonstone (7x07 AU)**

“Dany?” The soft, familiar voice quickly pulled her from her deep sleep.

“Jon. Where have you been?”

His reply was a small huff. “Now, isn’t _that_ the question?”

“Hmm?” She sat up, blinking sleepily to find her husband sitting on the edge of her bed. His face pale and his expression concerned.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come through earlier,” he said, moving one hand to gently caress her face. “It’s been … an odd couple of days.”

“Yes,” she agreed.

“Are you all right, Love? You really don’t look well. Has Missandei come to tend you?”

“I’m fine, just tired and ...” She smiled brightly as it all came came flooding back to her. “I did it, Jon. I travelled back to the past.”

He smiled and rolled his eyes. “You certain did.”

“Hmm?”

He shook his head, turning more serious. “I suppose that explains why you didn’t come back through to me then. I do hope that sort of visiting gets easier too. I’ve never felt quite so exhausted in my life. Not even after fighting a battle.”

“What? What are you talking about?” He was now grinning broadly. “Wait ... Are you telling me that you managed it too?”

“Aye,” he replied. “Quite the experience.”

“Tell me.”

He smiled. “You first.”

“It was the visit to the well,” she told him. “The one you remembered clearly.”

“Not _that_ clearly but I would have been … nine then?”

She nodded. “That sounds about right.” She bit her lip as she looked at him. “Gods you were _so_ adorable!”

Jon pulled a face. “Thanks. I think.”

“You were with Robb. He was talking about walking on the walls with Theon the night before and wondered where you were. He said he couldn’t find you anywhere.”

He nodded. “I was with you, probably.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought.” She grinned. “And then I couldn’t help it. I giggled at your response and you heard and looked up. It was so odd. I knew that you had seen me and you already said what you thought of me back then but …” She frowned, trying to put her thoughts into words.

“It certainly is a very strange experience,” he agreed, “but I’m worried about you, Dany. How long ago did you return? You really don’t look well.”

She shook her head, dismissing his concern. “I’m feeling much better now. Tired. Still a bit queasy but-” She caught the look on Jon’s face as he quickly lowered his head. “What? Why the smirk?”

“It is exhausting, it’s true.”

“I had no idea how strong the pull form the Door would be,” she continued. “It just felt so hard to step away, although moving towards you as a boy made it easier.” He nodded and she tipped her head, a hand on his cheek as if her fingers might stroke away some of his fatigue. “Did you visit me as a child? Was it when you rescued me?”

“No,” he replied, “and it was a good job it wasn’t as I didn’t have my sword with me.” He frowned. “Was I wearing my cloak back then? Can you remember?”

She closed her eyes briefly before shaking her head. “No. You were dressed all in black. It’s one of the main reasons I couldn’t recognise you. All black in a dark room. You were little more than a shadow for most of the time.”

He nodded. “I’ll need to remember that the next time I try then, just in case.”

“So? When _did_ you visit me?”

“Do you remember me coming over to you here at some point in the fairly recent past?” he asked her. “On an evening when you weren’t expecting me?”

She frowned. “Perhaps?”

“I gave the excuse of returning to collect a shirt.” He pulled a face. “First thing I could think of.”

“A shirt? Yes. I remember noticing how ill you appeared at the time and … you never did pick it up. You just turned around and headed straight back out.”

“I had to. The pull home was just so strong there was no way I could hang around.”

She gaped, suddenly catching up. “Wait. That was you … now? You were time travelling and I never even realised.”

“And neither of us even knew about the visit but, still, that was where I ended up. Can you remember _when_ that was?”

Dany frowned, trying to work it out. “During those early negotiations, I think. Back when the ravens were flying between our castles with the marriage alliance plans.”

He nodded, trying to put that all together. “Interesting.” He leant forward to kiss her and grinned. “Felt quite strange kissing you all those months ago … yesterday.”

She smiled, sitting up straighter in bed and now suddenly feeling a lot better. “Do you think you could do that again? Now you know how?”

“Definitely, but not for a while. It’s certainly not something I’m going to want to do regularly.”

She nodded. “Agreed. I think I’m going to get up now. As interesting as all of this is, I really am overdue at the camp. I need to fly down there and talk to Tyrion and Varys about our latest plans for King’s Landing.”

She felt perfectly fine as she got up, her dizziness and nausea now vanished, but Jon rushed over to her side and grabbed at her arm, his face full of concern as his eyes quite obviously scanned her up and down.

“I’m not sure you should. I think perhaps you should rest some more.”

“What? I’m perfectly well, Jon, really. There’s no need to fuss.” He winced. “What is it?”

“It has been a very strange couple of days, as I said before,” he replied, now looking at his boots. “I got another visit a short while ago. Another visit from the future.”

~o~0~o~

**Jon XXIV**

**Winterfell (7x07 AU)**

**Two Nights Earlier**

Despite his exhaustion, Jon had taken a while to fall asleep after talking over Rhaegar’s visit with Dany. Not that he was complaining about spending more time in his wife’s company, happy to lie awake with his head nuzzled against her shoulder and his hand resting gently on one of her breasts, whilst her fingers were tangled in his hair.

He was nearly always jolted awake when the magic pulled him back home but, this time, he had no memory of his return, sleeping deeply and walking up gently. Rested but groggy. His eyes feeling swollen after all the tears he had shed the evening before.

He sighed as he allowed himself to catch up with all of yesterday’s news. Of the full truth about his parents and of actually meeting his father. Of the revelation that he had … that he _would_ manage time travel at some point and would go back to visit Rhaegar, as well as his other known visit to Dany.

As he got up and started to wash, Jon became suddenly aware of a strange pull from the Door. It was almost as if his wife was coming through, but there was something about the sensation which felt subtly different. He strode over to his own door, opening it to a gloomy, deserted corridor with only a hint of light struggling to filter in from the high windows. Permanent darkness was now not far away.

He shuddered as an odd sensation rippled down his spine, similar to the feeling of stepping through the Door with Dany. It was an icy cold tingle down the back of his neck - a strange tug - as if Dany was walking right past, even though there was no sign of her here in front of him. Jon shook his head and focused, trying to sense the pull but just getting strange, mixed messages; one moment from the left, the next to the right.

“Yesterday must have taken more out of me than I thought,” he mumbled, returning to his official chambers to dress before quickly heading back out for his morning meeting with his siblings.

~o~0~o~

“What news of the south, Jon?” Sansa asked at the start of the meeting. “What’s happening in King’s Landing?”

“Nothing good,” he replied. “When Daenerys first arrived in Westeros she was faced with two choices. Head straight to the capital with all three dragons and both armies and attack with everything she had, or find a more subtle way of winning the throne. One which would not instantly alienate the Lords of Westeros.”

“And she went for the latter,” Sansa said. “Do you think now that that was the right choice?”

“Yes? Probably?” Jon shrugged. “The first way would have been quicker, certainly, but at what cost? All that would have happened is that she would have solidified the reputation she had already unfairly gained. The Mad King’s Daughter. Aegon the Conqueror come again.”

He winced as he said the name. He’d been in no state to talk to his sisters last night about the latest revelations. He would tell them everything he learnt, of course, but right now the name ‘Aegon’ made him feel especially uncomfortable.

“If Daenerys assumed Cersei would simply give it up without a fight then I’m afraid she was severely mistaken,” Sansa replied, not for the first time showing an understanding regarding the southern queen after all she had been through during her time in King's Landing.

“Tyrion still held out hope and went into the capital to talk with Jaime,” Jon replied, “but, it looks like you’re right. Cersei will happily allow the whole city to starve rather than give up her throne to the Dragon Queen.”

“And so?” Arya asked.

Jon shrugged. “Daenerys has been smuggling food and supplies in for the smallfolk but she’s now contemplating smuggling the most vulnerable citizens out. She’s already made friends in there and her message is beginning to spread as Varys’ Little Birds work to counter Cersei’s lies and explain what’s really going on. Telling everyone how the rest of the south is now settled and preparing for winter. How most of the realm is currently united against the _real_ threat.”

“And yet Daenerys can be of little use to us whilst she still has Cersei to deal with,” Arya said.

“That’s true,” Jon agreed. “Although I feel a little happier now we have all those extra troops and weapons up at the Wall, and it’s not as if the dragons can’t fly up here quickly if the Night King does suddenly attack.”

“And you can now fly one?” Sansa said.

He pulled a face. “After a fashion. Still think I’ll be of more use on the ground when the battle starts though.”

“And when are Daenerys and her dragons due back up here?” Arya asked then.

“Within the week,” he replied. “Depends on what’s going on down there and what else she needs to do first.”

“Good to know.”

Sansa looked back at her desk, shuffling some papers. “So I hear you flew up to to Castle Black recently, Jon?”

“Aye and Eastwatch and Dragonstone and Casterly Rock.” He grinned as he took note of his sisters’ expressions. “The advantage of dragon flight, as I said.”

“Well, I’ve received a number of scrolls from the Lord Commander and also from Eastwatch,” Sansa continued. “So we should probably discuss those and your latest visit and observations from up there now? The Lords have been asking for all sorts of details recently which I’ve not been in any position to give them.”

Jon looked down at the scrolls on the desk and sighed. “Fair enough. There’s still a lot to organise up there, despite all of the southern support, but at least we’re in a far better position now than we were a month ago. Where do you want to start?”

~o~0~o~

It had been a long, trying day and, although Jon felt he should return to his official chambers and get some proper sleep, some strange instinct dragged him back down to the First Keep instead.

Part of that was curiosity about the unusual sensations he had experienced earlier that morning and part a quiet concern for Dany, having not fully felt her presence via the Door since he had woken up. Of course, it was possible she was no longer on Dragonstone as Jon knew she had plans of her own in the south, only able to vaguely promise that she would fly up to him at some point during the next week. Until then he was to continue here as usual, just checking the Door from time to time to see if he could make sense of the newer sensations they had been feeling and perhaps solve the time travelling questions in the process.

Jon strode down the dark, cold corridor, pulling his cloak around him a little more securely against the icy, evening air, the eerie whistle of the wind strangely comforting as it rattled the panes of glass in the tiny, high windows here. He was standing in front of the Dragon Door before he’d consciously thought about it, his palm on the dark wood as he instantly sensed Dany on the other side of it. Apparently she hadn’t left Dragonstone after all. Or perhaps she had flown very briefly over to the camp and then returned? Certainly he had not sensed her this strongly before.

Jon was now torn between going through to talk to her about her day, or work on the task she had given him to sense the less obvious pulls within the wood. He quickly decided to at least attempt the latter, as he could always go and visit her afterwards if he was not successful. He kept getting distracted though, starting to discover the thin, faint pull only to become very aware of his wife on the other side, constantly struggling to get his mind to focus on the specific goal of discovering those whispers and perhaps going back to the past to rescue her.

Eventually the pull towards Dany became overwhelming and Jon acted without thinking, quickly accepting defeat and pushing the Door open, sensing Dany in the living room on the other side or … perhaps in her bed chambers? He was finding it rather hard to tell.

As he stepped over, his confident stride instantly faltered as if something were barring his way. Jon shook his head against a sudden rush of sound in his ears and an unexpected dizziness, forcing himself to walk forwards - gasping at the effort of it - feeling as if he were wading through tar. Another step and the sensation eased slightly, just enough for him to become aware of Dany again. _Definitely_ in the living room but, why did this all feel so strange? Why was the Dragon Door pulling at him quite so hard? Had he actually managed to travel back in time?

If he had, then this was definitely _not_ Dragonstone during the Baratheon attack. The corridor here looked far too familiar. Very much as it usually did. Which meant that this must just be a normal visit after all and he was simply feeling overtired due to everything he had been through the last couple of days.

He took a deep breath and opened the lighter door to his left, fighting to walk normally against the unusually strong tug dragging him backwards.

“Jon?”

He froze for a moment as he took note of Dany standing in front of him, looking much the same as she always did except … There was perhaps something a little different about her? He quickly changed his mind again - deciding that he _had_ travelled back in time after all. Perhaps just weeks or months rather than years? He would have to be very careful how he acted now, just in case.

“Hello Dany.”

“I wasn’t expecting you tonight,” she said, calmly. “Your note said you were busy?”

This wasn’t now. If it had been she would have said something else. She would have asked how he was feeling after yesterday or explained why she was still here and not at the camp. So, _when_ was this? Certainly before their marriage if she was talking about notes.

“Yes, I know. Sorry. I just ... came to pick up a shirt I left here and I won’t stay for long. We need our sleep on these nights off, after all.”

She smiled and nodded and he breathed out, relieved that he’d obviously not said anything to make her suspicious. Then she came closer and Jon suddenly fought with the strange contradiction of it being Dany in front of him but … from his past, his body reacting instantly to her soft smile and proximity whilst he actually felt slightly awkward about the encounter.

“Are you all right?” she asked, frowning as she looked up at him. “You look tired.”

Tired didn’t even begin to describe how he was feeling right now. Exhausted barely covered it. The effort of this sort of travel a huge shock to his body. Yes, there was no doubt in his mind now. He _had_ moved back in time, even if he wasn’t exactly sure when. Certainly Dany had never mentioned such a visit to him.

“I am a bit ...“ He fought for an excuse. “… got a bit of a headache. I really should go.” Because the pull was now becoming stronger and it felt like that time on the Dragonstone platform when he was younger and he was sure he was about to be thrown home at any moment.

“Not without giving me a kiss first.”

He could never refuse her, of course and pulling her into his arms actually helped a little anyway, the physical intimacy negating some of the drag from the Door.

“It’s never easy to _just_ kiss you, you do know that, right?”

It didn’t feel any different he noticed. Certainly his body recognised her, turning quickly hard despite the muscle numbing exhaustion now flowing through him. He suddenly wanted her. Desperately. But there was no way that could happen with the way he was feeling right now.

“You really don’t look well, my love,” she said, gently brushing his cheek. “Go and rest. I’ll exhaust you in a different way the next time you’re here ... if you’re feeling better?”

“Oh, I have _plans_ for next time, don’t you worry,” he improvised, giving her another brief kiss before turning back around quickly, striding back towards the corridor and gritting his teeth as the magic yanked at him.

It took all Jon’s strength to stay upright. To walk forwards rather than to collapse on the floor and to focus enough on the latch to be able to open the Door. He then stumbled over the threshold rather than stepped, his legs giving way the moment he reached Winterfell, whilst his body and mind struggled to work out where and when he was. He gasped, staggering towards the wall next to his own door, leaning on it for what seemed like an age while he waited for everything to still.

“Your Grace?” Davos’ voice sounded distant and faint and, for a moment, he was quite unable to find the strength to reply. “Jon. Are you all right?”

“I’m … not really,” he managed as his Hand rushed to his side. “Felt a bit odd after training and now … suddenly dizzy.” He was having to make up a lot of excuses today and his mind was really not sharp enough to do so with ease. “I … I must be coming down with something. I think I need to lie down.”

“You’ve been overdoing it,” Davos scolded, falling into a comfortable familiarity as he looped Jon’s arm over his shoulder and staggered with him back to the bed. “All this war preparation and flying around on dragons. Any other symptoms? Feeling sick? Hot? Cold?”

“No, none of those,” he replied, as he fell onto his back on the bed. “Just tired and dizzy. Think I need to rest for a bit.”

“Have you eaten this evening? Should I bring some food?”

Jon’s stomach rumbled at the thought. “Food, aye. Sounds good. Think I’ll sleep down here for tonight. Not sure I could make it over to my official chambers.”

“Nor should you try,” his Hand replied. “Just lie down here, Jon. I’ll come and see you again later and make your excuses if you’re not well enough tomorrow.”

He simply nodded as he closed his eyes, sleep quickly pulling at him. When he woke later it was to a warm room with a fire burning merrily and a platter laden with food and drink on his desk. He got up and ate greedily before untying his hair, changing into lighter, night wear and tucking himself back under the furs.

~o~0~o~

“Jon?”

He sighed happily as he felt his wife’s hand gently stroking her fingers through his curls, instantly aware of the usual, morning tension between his legs and hoping she might stay for long enough to help him with it.

“Morning, Love,” he said, stretching. “Why don’t you come under the covers?”

She laughed. “I think you’re a bit too tired for that, don’t you?”

“Perhaps a little.”

“And you forgot to eat, didn’t you?”

“I had something last night.” He finally blinked open his eyes and couldn’t help but sigh on seeing her sitting by his bedside. “You are _so_ beautiful.”

“As are you,” she replied, bending down to place a chaste kiss on his forehead. “Despite the bags under your eyes. What _have_ you been up to?”

He grinned then, suddenly remembering. “I did it, Dany. I travelled back to the past.”

Her lips twitched. “Congratulations. Who did you visit and when?”

“You. Not that long ago, actually.” He frowned. “I’m not sure if you even realised it. It couldn’t have been long after we were first reunited.” He frowned as he took a note of her expression. “What’s so funny?”

“That’s the problem at our age,” she said. “It’s just so hard to tell a few months here or there. Easy enough to mistake a visit from the past with one from the present.”

He frowned, suddenly realising something was slightly unusual here and that Dany was acting rather too calmly about his talk of time travel. “What’s going on?”

“I hadn’t meant to come over now,” she admitted, “but it’s as Bran said. Sometimes we’re just fated to visit at a certain time and there’s nothing to be done about it.” She sighed. “You are going to be _so_ cross with me when you find out.”

“About what? I could never be cross with you.”

She smiled gently. “Only when you’re worried about me.”

She leant forwards to kiss him on the lips, her intention apparently just to be brief and gentle but Jon had other ideas, moving one hand to the back of her head and pulling her down to him as he opened his mouth and kissed her deeply. He fully intended to drag her down the whole way and persuade her into bed but quickly released her as he felt her wince, looking up in concern.

“What is it? Are you not well? Did you not fly down to the camp today?”

“I wasn’t able to manage that for a couple of days,” she said. “In fact, I’m actually fast asleep next door right now. My own first go at time travel was even more exhausting than yours.”

“What?”

“I’d tease you for being so slow,” she said then, “but seeing what you’ve been through these last few days, I can hardly blame you.” She sighed. “And, I’m sorry, my love, but I’m afraid you’re going to have one more shock to add to everything else you’ve had to deal with recently.”

He blinked, finally catching up. “You’re … you’re visiting me from the future?”

“Yes.”

“From when?”

“About … four months time? Around that.”

“How is it going?” he asked immediately. “The war preparations? King’s Landing? What do I need to know?”

Dany frowned, biting her lip. “Firstly, you must remember to eat well before you travel to a different time. It’ll help you to cope better. That’ll be especially important if you have to end up _fighting_ whilst you’re there?” She gave him a very knowing look and he nodded, understanding.

“Thank you. I’ll remember that.”

“Secondly, you need to ask Bran about his visions,” she continued. “Specifically about what he thinks is wrong with them.”

“Wrong?”

She nodded, still frowning. “You know how he is? Unless you direct him he won’t fully understand what is important. Certain visions he had about the future are no longer coming to pass and he doesn’t know why. You need to ask him about it. You all need to understand what’s going on.”

“You can’t tell me?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that, I’m afraid.”

“That’s what Bran said.”

Dany laughed lightly. “I know. I was there too if you remember?”

“Urgh!” He dropped his head back onto the pillows. “It is all so confusing.”

“You have no idea,” she replied, heatedly and then suddenly gasped, swallowing hard. “I need to leave, Jon. Being this close to you and the Door helps to a certain extend but I really can’t risk being thrown back right now.”

“Thrown? As in what happened to me in Winter Town?”

“Yes. It was bad enough when it happened to me that first time,” she said, starting to rise. “Yesterday to you. But, right now, such a thing would be positively dangerous for me.”

Jon gasped as she stood up, his mouth dropping open as he was finally able to see her properly and caught up with what she had just been talking about. He sat up abruptly.

“Dany … you’re … pregnant?”

She grinned at him, leaning down to lift his hand and place it on her very swollen stomach. Jon gasped at the sudden jolt he felt under his palm, turning his gaze up to her in awe at experiencing such a firm kick from within. Then another. Dany smiled weakly at him as she caressed his hand briefly before stepping away.

“I am very happy about this, of course,” she said as she started to leave. “Excited and nervous and a bit confused about how the curse managed to be broken. However, right now, I am also extremely sore and uncomfortable.” She threw one final cheeky grin over her shoulder as she headed out, turning to the side, and making her condition even more obvious to him.

“Look at what you’ve done to me, Jon. All of _this_ is entirely your fault.”

~o~0~o~

####  **End of Act Four**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * A not entirely unexpected revelation here, I think. Although definitely a unique way for Jon to find out!  
>   * If you're confused about the jumping around here, you might want to read the first scene again, now knowing that Jon has come straight from having met future!Dany. The next chapter will also pick back up from that scene just to re-orientate you.
>   * A couple of you did pick up on the 'shirt scene' back in chapter 11 and wondered what was off about it. There you go! 
>   * I got so excited when [the-last-targaryens](https://the-last-targaryens.tumblr.com/) found that 'dizzy corridor' picture for the moodboard. SO perfect for what the two of them experienced in the last couple of chapters.
>   * So, to clarify (because a number of people were speculating) The Doors do make all Targs tired, especially when they're not used to it. So, as children, the simple process of stepping through to their own time used to quickly tire them out. Recently they've become used to those sensation,but are now experiencing both exhaustion and dizziness when they travel through time. (Many of you already guessed that Dany's nausea was not due to that) These strong sensations will also ease the more they do it, plus they now have the extra hint about food that future!Dany has just given to Jon.
>   * Here ends Act 4.  Act 5 is roughly done and, althougth I'm still working on the plotting of Act 6, I'm 90% certain that the 36 chapter estimate still holds. Probably about 175K words by the end too.  That's crazy long for me! 
> 



	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picking up again from the end of Dany's pov in the last chapter when Jon has just been visited by her future self.

###  **Act Five: Being Dragons**

**Jon XXV**

**Dragonstone (7x07 AU)**

“It has been a very strange couple of days, as I said before.” Jon tried hard _not_ to look at Dany as he wrestled with the dilemma of whether he should tell her what he had learnt. “I got another visit a short while ago. Another visit from the future.”

“Who was it?” she asked.

Finally he did glance up at her, trying hard to keep his emotions hidden. “You.”

“Me? When?”

“A few months into the future.”

Jon bit his lip. He knew next to nothing about pregnancy. The Dany who had recently visited him had seemed very far along but then his wife was small and perhaps she had already gained a little weight and neither of them had thought much of it. Had she? He frowned, trying to remember the last time he had seen her fully naked. They were now so often buried under furs, after all. Perhaps at Casterly Rock?

“What is it, Jon?”

He shook his head. “I’m just worried about you.”

“There’s no need. I feel so much better now. Just a bit tired still.”

“Shall I stay?”

Her face lit up, her eyes sparkling despite her exhaustion. “Yes, please. Even if only for a while. I know it’ll make me sleep better and then perhaps I can finally start catching up.”

Jon nodded as he started to undress, biting back his immediate response that she shouldn’t be rushing of anywhere in her condition. His sudden excitement at the realisation that his wife had to be pregnant already and he was going to be a father, faded slightly as he thought about how bad the timing of this actually was. She was needed in this fight - they both were - but, seeing how ill their first visit through time had made them, would any future jumps need to be postponed until after the conflict?

But Jon already knew that wasn’t going to work. After all, the Dany he had just spoken to in Winterfell had said she planned to visit him in _her_ time but had ended up in the past anyway.

As usual, when visiting via the Door, Jon placed his shirt on the pillow and only dropped his trousers to his ankles before clambering into bed with his wife and snuggling close, laughing as she yelped at the feel of his cold hands as he caressed her through her thin nightdress.

“How tired are you right now?” he whispered.

“Suddenly nowhere near as much as I was a few moments ago,” she replied.

“Good.”

Jon started to bunch up her skirts, fingers slowly stroking up her legs, enjoying her gasps of delight as he edged his way higher. He would take his time tonight and be soft and gentle and very, very thorough. He was going to enjoy seeing if he could discover any differences in her body. Any hints at all that she had already started to change.

Dany gasped and wriggled under him, trying to tempt him into rushing, trying to take a hold of him to make him lose patience but he would not be distracted today. Despite not wanting to be rough with her, Jon grabbed her two slender wrists in one hand and hoisted them over her head to still her. He heard her breath hitch then - obviously anticipated one of his rougher games - but he simply wanted to hold her captive so he could continue his slow exploration up her body, his free hand and lips taking far longer than usual to nuzzle at the soft swell of her stomach and her delicious breasts. He took them firmly in hand, measuring them, his light rub of her nipples causing her to gasp.

“Jon, let me touch you.”

“Patience,” he said. “I’ve not finished.”

“Finished what? Torturing me? Why are your lips and fingers there? That’s _not_ where they’re needed.”

He laughed and continued his slow exploration, allowing the idea to grow in him. Ordinarily he would be afraid. Afraid of her carrying such weight on her small frame. Afraid of her being pregnant whilst fighting. Of her giving birth after her previous disastrous pregnancy. But he had just seen her glowing with health whilst a good way along and also as an old woman who had obviously survived the birth. Of course there was still no way of knowing whether the baby had lived or even if he would survive to see that future but he could take comfort in that one thing, at least. That his beloved Dany would not suffer the fate that either of their mothers had.

He moved up to her lips then, smiling as he moved to gently kiss her, only to be faced by her glower.

“What?” he asked.

“Are you quite sure you’re _my_ Jon?” she asked. “Because I hardly recognise you today.”

“Of course,” he reassured her, kissing her gently. “No time travel involved. I just felt the need to worship every inch of your body tonight. To show you just how delicious you are to me.”

“You’re driving me to distraction,” she countered. “Just fuck me already.”

He laughed at that, finally releasing her wrists to move into position between her legs, feeling a lot less fired up than he usually did and anticipating staying inside her for a good, long while, _if_ she would allow him to dictate the pace. He moved slowly, gently, perhaps even more so than on their wedding night.

‘ _Had it happened then?’_ he wondered as he slid into her lazily. If their theory was correct then there weren’t many times it _could_ have happened. Not many times when they had both been anchored to the same place.

“Faster! Please,” Dany begged but all Jon did was adjust his position a little so he could move a hand in between to help push her over the edge whilst maintaining his slow and gentle rhythm. He gasped and stilled as he achieved his aim, revelling in the sensation of her clenching and pulsing around him whilst he still felt he had a way to go. He waited, savouring it all until he felt her relax a little, before starting to move again; gently at first, smirking as she twitched and cursed on every push, still over-sensitive.

“Perhaps if you weren’t so gentle you’d have finished along with me,” she grumbled but Jon just laughed, moving to kiss her lips.

“I love you so very much, my fiery dragon. Let me pleasure you once or twice more and then you’ll be sure to feel better in the morning.”

“No.”

Her patience had now obviously worn thin, one hand pulling his hair whilst the other clawed at his back, her heels pressing his buttocks as she pushed him down and arched her own hips up to meet his. He had one last attempt at holding her still, of continuing to make gentle love to her, but then she yanked his hair and suckled his throat and Jon’s dormant inner wolf was abruptly awoken, urging him to grab her wrists again - to thrust into her hard and fast - until they both screamed their release together.

His queen always got her way in the end.

~o~0~o~

She had fallen asleep almost immediately. Only stirring slightly as Jon pulled up his trousers and put on his shirt, muttering a few half-hearted curses at him for having teased her so.

“I look forward to my punishment the next time, my queen,” he replied, snuggling back into her embrace and kissing the top of her head. He didn’t feel especially tired right now and so hoped he could stay awake for a while and savour her presence next to him. After all, he was quite used to whiling away sleepless nights on his own - spending the time working through problems or making plans - and this was considerably more pleasant with his wife in his arms and looking so beautiful.

He again wrestled with the dilemma of whether or not to tell her she was pregnant. She would probably be cross with him for not saying anything but, then again, would she perhaps prefer to find out herself? Maybe she even suspected it but was keeping quiet due to her own doubts and fears? If it _had_ happened at their wedding then surely it must soon start to become obvious to her? When she woke up a little later, Jon still hadn’t made up his mind, instead leaning down to kiss her gently and ask her how she felt.

“Good,” she replied. “Very much better. Thanks the gods. I really do have so much I need to catch up on.”

“You’re flying over to your camp?” he asked, getting out of bed, thinking perhaps to walk home for a change.

“Yes. Varys has been setting up a few special routes in and out of King’s Landing itself. The Dragon Train, he’s been calling it. We use it to take in sacks of food to our contacts there whilst also smuggling out a number of the most vulnerable citizens.”

“That will take a long time though,” Jon said.

She nodded. “So, the latest plan is for us to start infiltrating certain parts of the city and claim them from the inside. Cersei cares little about what goes on in there - mostly leaving them to fend for themselves - and so Varys thinks it’ll be easy to slowly take over the city itself and gain support from the inside, much as we have done with the lords in the castles. If that’s successful then we’ll only be left with the Red Keep and we can either use the Door to infiltrate that or I can simply have Drogon deal with it.”

Jon winced at the thought but nodded. “At least that way you’ll only be attacking the actual enemy. Not the innocent citizens.”

She smiled. “Exactly.”

“It’s a good plan,” he said with a sigh. “I just hope we have time for it.”

“Cersei is still currently contained and, although it’s true I do need to keep a number of my forces there whilst this plan is in operation, it’ll be easy enough for me to fly up to you quickly if there’s a problem.” She was also getting out of bed, moving towards her clothes. “Are you going back home?”

“Thought I should. Missed most of yesterday due to the time travelling.”

“And you haven’t slept?”

“I slept deep enough the night before. I’ll be fine.” He sighed. “I need to talk again to Bran about all of this as well as something the future you said but … perhaps I should wait until you fly back up so we can both be there for that?”

“Of course. I’ll try not to be too long.”

“Good.” He moved forward to give his wife a long, lingering kiss. “Please be careful down there and come back up to me soon.” She frowned slightly, looking at him closely. “Promise me? Don’t over-exert yourself after the last couple of days?”

“I promise, but I really am fully recovered now, Jon. Please stop fussing.”

He shook his head, not convinced and still not certain about his decision to withhold that vital piece of news from her. He gave his wife another long, lingering kiss, the hand he had resting on her hip now itching to caress her stomach whilst he swallowed a lump in his throat at the memory of the firm kick he had felt there a few months from now … Yesterday.

“Jon? Are you _sure_ you’re all right?” she asked, frowning at him.

He huffed a small laugh. “Perfectly. Just take care. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replied, and he smiled at her gently before turning around and heading back through the Door to Winterfell.

~o~0~o~

**Dany XXV**

**Dragonstone & Camptown (S8 AU)**

“How are you feeling?” Missandei asked Dany as she walked into her official chambers.

“Very much better.” Although she was still dwelling on Jon’s visit and why she had thought for a moment that he’d been a time travelling version.

“Are you sure?”

“No, it’s fine,” she replied, turning her attention onto her friend more fully. “I just got a visit from Jon and it’s distracting me a bit.” Her friend ducked her head, smirking. “And not like that. Only that I’m to fly up to Winterfell just as soon as I’ve concluded my visit to King’s Landing.

Missandei nodded. “I had a raven sent to Rosby yesterday to tell them you had been delayed. I’ve no idea if the message would have reached the camp in time though.”

“Thank you. I suppose that means I’d better make an early start, just in case it didn’t.”

The flight over there was fairly short but still gave Dany a chance to think more about what had happened to her and Jon over the last couple of days. That they’d both managed time travel independently on the same day was strange enough but then Jon had received another visit, although it dawned on her then that he’d said very little about it. All he had told her was that it had been from a few months into the future and that he needed to talk to Bran because of something _she_ had told him. What an odd thought.

“Did you receive my message from Missandei about being delayed?” Dany asked as soon as she arrived in the pavilion.

“No,” Tyrion replied with a wry smile, “but we’re getting used to your absences now and have just been proceeding as planned.” He looked at her more closely and frowned. “Are you quite well?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.” She really did feel perfectly recovered. Why was everyone fussing over her all of a sudden? “Is everything ready? This place appears to have grown.”

“It has,” Tyrion replied. “Come and take a tour of Camptown and see for yourself.”

“Camptown?”

“Yes,” he said with a broad smile. “Let me show you around.”

Tyrion escorted her towards the northern part of her camp and proudly showed her the numerous new tents that had been erected there to house, clothe and feed those who would be leaving the city during the next few weeks.

“We’ve recruited people from a number of nearby settlements and have more on their way from the south and west,” he told her. “We’re not only smuggling out the most vulnerable from King’s Landing but also the most skilled too. It won’t be long before these visitors will be able to return home with wagons full of extra food, weapons and people to help them through the long winter.”

Dany nodded her approval. It had been the main selling point of her scheme to the castle lords she had visited recently. Send prisoners and some skilled soldiers to the Wall and send artisans and healers to her camp. In return she would continue to fly in supplies to those castles and boost their armies with her own men. Huge numbers of people were already on the move north and east, and now she was to start her campaign to truly take over King’s Landing by both removing as many of the population as she could and annexing large parts of the city for herself.

Ser Davos had remained down here with them, his smuggling abilities and knowledge of King’s Landing being of great use to her at the moment, even if Jon did half heartedly grumble about her having stolen away his Hand. Davos had contacted a blacksmith within the city who was helping him in there and, along with Varys’ little birds and all their new contacts, they now had quite a crowd of people working inside for her cause. There had already been numerous, small smuggling missions undertaken during the last couple of weeks; various Unsullied soldiers taking in food and weapons to their contacts within King’s Landing and then staying there, quietly helping to secure one small area, whilst other people of importance came back out. Silent Sisters, septas and septons, cooks, bakers and maesters.

“And how are things looking inside the city now?” she asked Varys. “Are we going to be able to secure that key area around the base of the Keep? Will we soon have access into the castle itself?”

“It is where we are focusing our efforts, Your Grace,” he confirmed. “Although I would not recommend trying to use that passageway quite yet.”

She nodded. “I will accept your superior knowledge of the workings of the city, Varys,” she replied. “I’m just pleased that that is the area we are focusing on.” Because she really needed to know that she or Jon could use the Door if required, and this time be able to easily escape out into a friendly area.

“We are now close to getting it secured,” Varys continued. “Ser Jorah is in command of your soldiers, quietly taking control inside, whilst Ser Davos is working with the blacksmith Gendry in what we are now calling the Dragon Quarter, helping to move people in and out and dealing more directly with the smallfolk.”

Having worried so much about the delay, Daenerys was both reassured and slightly offended that the plan had been going ahead without her. When she asked whether she was needed in King’s Landing her advisors looked surprised, informing her that there was no need to risk her safety when everything was now running quite smoothly without her.

“You didn’t seem concerned last time,” she said, unable to shake the feeling there was some odd conspiracy going on behind her back.

“It was very helpful to have you there before,” Varys explained, “and for our contacts to meet the Dragon Queen in person rather than just accept my word on the matter. That last visit did the trick though. You have a large number of supporters within the city now and the word will continue to quickly spread. There really is little need for you to show your face again there. Certainly not in the short term.”

She turned to Tyrion an eyebrow raised. “So I should just sit in my castle and let you get on with it?”

“I thought that was the whole point?” he replied, amused. “I thought you had given us _this_ job whilst you used your dragons to check on the progress of the supply trains and fly up to the Wall to keep an eye on your husband’s walking dead men.”

She nodded. “Of course. You’re quite right. It’s just ...” She shrugged having no idea why she was objecting. She did have other places to be, after all. “An official meeting later today then to make sure I’m fully appraised of all the news here and then I shall fly up to Winterfell.”

Tyrion nodded. “And will you be bringing Jon Snow south then?” 

“To Dragonstone, yes, but I wasn’t planning for him to come here. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason other than ...” Her Hand smiled broadly. “I admit that I would simply be glad to see the boy again.”

~o~0~o~

**Winterfell**

Jon was fussing again.

Daenerys tried to ignore it, grumbling to herself as she packed a few things into the chest here; now slowly getting to the point where she was making herself comfortable in her various bed-chambers at several different castles.

“Perhaps you’d like to rest for a bit?”

She spun around sharply, striding over to her husband so quickly that he took a hasty step backwards, belatedly aware of her mood and obviously nervous by it. She smirked at his reaction before turning abruptly more serious.

“What in the Seven Hells is wrong with you lately, Jon?”

“M-me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Ah, you worried about _me_ after King’s Landing,” he mumbled, his tone slightly sulky.

“And you scolded me for it. We both got tired when time travelling and you don’t see me asking after _you_ constantly.” He winced. “Anything you want to say?” Jon just shook his head. “Fine. Let’s go and see Bran then.”

He followed behind her quickly, taking her hand, looking up at her through long eyelashes and pouting _so_ pathetically that she struggled to keep her expression stern, wondering at how difficult it was for her to remain truly cross with him. As they crossed the small courtyard she quickly became distracted by the well, moving over to touch it and then looking around, trying to discover the subtle differences from a week ago … Fourteen years ago. She shook her head.

“So odd.”

“It must be,” Jon said. “I’ve only travelled back months, not years.”

Being here now was helping Dany to recall that time travelling visit in more detail and she told Jon about it, her annoyance with him briefly forgotten. Once with Bran in his chambers the couple related their stories again and much of what Jon said was new to her as well, either because he was remembering things in hindsight or because he hadn’t got around to mentioning it to her before.

“You weren’t able to direct the visits then?” Bran asked.

“No,” Jon replied. “I wasn’t even sure if I was visiting Dany in the past or present.”

“I _wa_ s aware that I had travelled back in time,” Dany told them. “I just woke up and … knew how to do it somehow. I didn’t direct the journey itself though, even if I did end up taking the only one I really knew about as fact.”

“But we’re not here just to pass on news of our success here,” Jon said then. “I had one final visit as I was recovering, you see. From Dany. A few months into the future.”

Bran nodded, surprisingly calm about such a comment. “She had news for you?”

“Information, yes, but also a question for you. Or ... for me to ask you.” Dany frowned at him, not having been told about this bit yet. “She asked you what is wrong with your future visions,” Jon continued. “She wanted to know what it is about them that has been confusing you recently.”

Bran frowned, looking down at his lap. “That’s interesting. Certain events I saw some time ago have now not happened in the same way, it’s true, but I assumed that was the nature of the future. That it was still being formed and shaped. That it was still … fluid.”

“And yet you described it as a tapestry,” Jon said. “Past and future and present all linked. Didn’t you say that everything has happened already? That it can’t be changed? Are you telling me now that some of the future events we've been made aware of may not turn out that way?”

“The past is fixed it’s true. You _will_ go back to rescue Daenerys and, although her visit to you is in the future, the fact she travelled to your past means that that event can no longer be changed either.”

Jon let out a sharp breath and Dany wondered at the sudden flash of relief that crossed his face on hearing Bran’s assertion.

“But there must be other events that are more flexible,” the young man continued “Things which are not fixed in the future.” He frowned, shaking his head. “Suddenly, now that I say it, I can see how odd those events seem. How they were all set to be correct and yet are no longer true and...” His gaze became distant again.

“Yes?” Jon pushed. “The Dany I met seemed very insistent that you understood this problem. She believed it was very important for us.”

Bran looked straight up at her then and yet … also seemingly straight through her too. His voice taking on an even more unemotional quality.

“I saw a dragon falling. Dying. I saw the Night King and … He _knew_ it would happen. He planned for it to happen. He _made_ it happen. I saw Jon in the snow and in the freezing water and in danger. You flying to his rescue ...”

“When will this happen?” she pushed. “Can we change it?”

“That time has passed,” Bran whispered. “The vision is no longer true. I just assumed that it was the way things worked. I’m still so new to this after all. And yet … The Night King expected it to happen. So did a group of men who travelled up to Eastwatch.”

“We met those men,” Jon realised. “They … they weren’t making a lot of sense to be honest.” He looked up at her and she shrugged as she tried to recall what they had said.

“Visions in the flames. An arrowhead mountain. An expedition north.”

“Yes,” Bran said. “That was the expedition that you had to rescue Jon from. Who do those men believe sent them their visions?”

“The Red God. R’hllor. The Lord of Light,” she replied.

Bran nodded. “You should talk to them again when you’re next there, then, but I think now perhaps I can guess what is happening. I think I’m starting to understand. I told you that I had never seen your Door in my visions? That it was hidden from me?”

“I remember,” Jon replied.

“I think then … it must be hidden from others too. Your magic is from Essos - from Old Valyria - but, if the followers of R’hllor cannot see it either then …” His voice trailed away and he lowered his head again, deep in thought.

“What are you saying?” Jon pushed.

“I think that your Door has changed things. Myself and others with the gift to view the future can see many and numerous possible paths but, a future influenced by the Dragon Doors, is apparently unable to be viewed in that way.”

“Which is good news?” Dany suggested.

“It's good news if the Night King cannot see the new path, yes, but it also means that I am unable to view it either.”

“Tell me about the dragon falling,” she asked him.

“I told you. The time has passed. That future cannot happen now.”

“That doesn’t mean to say it won’t happen later on or in a different way. Tell me. Which dragon? How?”

“All I know is it was _not_ the one you were riding. The Night King threw a great ice spear and it struck one of the other two. He threw another at you but you were able to swerve. A dragon with a rider has so much more … purpose. Two pairs of eyes. Double the instincts.”

“Was I not riding one?” Jon asked.

“No. Daenerys and the dragons came to rescue _you_. You needed something beyond the Wall but I’m not certain what it was. As I said, that thread of time no longer exists. The need for you to undertake that mission has long gone.”

“But we will have to engage the Night King at some point in the future and on dragons,” Dany said, turning to Jon. “So we’ll need to be prepared for those spears.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “That may be what you meant for us to learn.”

“It is good to know, it’s true,” Bran said, “but don’t underestimate the main thing we discovered here. The Night King cannot see the Doors or anything that has been influenced by them. Recently I’ve been convinced that his power to manipulate others has been his main weapon. He sees the future and uses his visions to creates the future and allow it all to come to pass. I have believed for a while my task was to work to counter his visions wherever I could but now? Now we know that parts of the future are closed to him and so he no longer has control over it.” 

“And yet he won’t know that?” Jon suggested. “He won’t realise _why_ things are not going the way he expected?”

“If you needed to show me the Door and give me hints from the future for me to understand why my visions are wrong then, no, I cannot see how he could possibly understand.”

Dany let out a sigh. “I won’t lose them, Jon. They are my children and I cannot see them die.”

He looked at her curiously and, for once, she was quite unable to interpret the various, subtle expressions that flit across his features.

“I do not believe we can go into such a battle without expecting a great many losses, Dany. So I’m afraid I cannot guarantee their safety. But at least we now have some warning. Some way to help us prepare and stay one step ahead of him for a change."

~o~0~o~

They left Bran’s room in a thoughtful mood, Jon offering his arm to escort her back to their chambers. Winterfell was starting to get crowded now - various northerners evacuating to its relative safety - and so it made sense for them to share a room, considering how infrequently she was actually here.

Dany was still a little cross with him but, with her hand comfortably in his arm and his head ducked to whisper some inconsequential thing about the plan for the trip south, she quickly decided that being angry with her husband was not in her best interest right now. She wanted him. Needed him. So, she allowed herself to relax into his body a little, her hand wandering slightly under his cloak to make her intentions perfectly clear.

“Jon. Daenerys.” She tried hard not to roll her eyes at the interruption.

“Hello, Arya,” Jon said and she too smiled brightly at the girl, genuinely pleased to see her, despite the intrusion.

“Are you to travel south again soon?” she asked them.

“Tomorrow,” Jon confirmed. “Assuming no other issues arise.”

“Any chance I could come with you?” she asked, her eyes wide and pleading turning first to Jon and then her. “You did promise me a dragon ride, after all.”

Dany smiled at the look she recognised from when Arya had been a small girl. Always so in awe. So determined to escape her carers to come and play with them.

“I don’t see why not. We’re going to Dragonstone next but Jon will only be able to stay there a day or two?”

“Oh, that’s fine. I won’t get in your way and I would love to see the place.” Then she laughed brightly. “But I can see the two of you have other things on your mind right now so I won’t keep you.”

“Arya!” Jon complained whilst Dany just laughed before dragging him more urgently up the spiral staircase.

“No, she’s right. I need you naked and inside me, although you do have some apologising to do first.”

“Me?” Jon asked. “What for?”

“For being annoyingly over-protective.”

He nodded, a sly smile on his face. “Of course. And what do I need to do to atone for that crime?”

“You need to do me,” she replied promptly. “Just as often as you can.”

“That doesn’t sound like too much of a chore,” he replied as they reached his chambers and he turned to bar the door. “So let me make a start on that.”

She sometimes forgot how quick he was. He had barely locked them in before he was back on her, pushing her onto the bed, hands under her skirts and yanking off her trousers before she knew what was happening.

“Jon!” she cried.

“Ssh,” he mumbled. “Pace yourself, my love. It’s going to be a very long night.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another wonderful moodboard by [the-last-targaryens](https://the-last-targaryens.tumblr.com/) for this and the next two chapters. Have you spotted anything interesting on it?


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The crazy even number endings were mostly an Act 4 thing. Don't relax TOO much though and do keep reading very carefully for clues. 

**Dany XXVI**

**Dragonstone (S8 AU)**

Dany woke up in her childhood bed in the old Dragon wing, frowning slightly as she tried to orientate herself and let her mind catch up with recent events. Behind her Jon shifted, both hands over her stomach as he pushed himself up against her back, still fast asleep but already hard for her again.

She smiled as the memories from the previous night returned and she recalled how her husband’s gentle, loving attentions had slowly turned back to the Jon she far preferred; eager, hungry and desperate for her. It had been a rare battle of wills, neither wanting to submit to the other’s preference for quite some time until Dany seized the advantage, teasing her wolf until he finally snapped - ordering her onto her knees where he took her hard and fast; one hand where it was now on her stomach, the other between her legs to ensure that she finished too. Her husband never could allow himself to be entirely selfish during their loving and that thought alone was enough to tempt her to wake him up and ask for yet another round.

First though she slowly untangled herself from his embrace, trying not to disturb him, rising slowly to relieve herself after wrapping herself up in her fur-lined gown, the chill now obvious even this far south.

They had flown to Dragonstone the day before; Jon on Rhaegal and Arya with her. His sister was as fearless as Jon - perhaps even more so - looking at the distant ground with no concern, whooping in delight as Dany had deliberately dove Drogon downwards, curious about the girl’s reaction.

On landing, Arya had bowed deeply to each dragon in turn before listening attentively as Daenerys gave her a brief tour of the place. Then Missandei had appeared with troubling news from Tyrion in Camptown and the couple turned their attention to their advisor before deciding to visit the old wing to check the King’s Landing map that had been left here.

“It’s just like Meereen all over again,” she complained to Jon. “Every move I make in the city is countered. Every attempt to gain control just spirals it more out of control. Perhaps I should just return to my original plan and use Drogon after all.”

“Or the Doors?” Jon suggested.

“Good idea,” she replied, blandly. “You can just nip into King’s Landing and kill Cersei in her sleep.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Aye, because I was _so_ good at going in undetected the last time.”

She smiled, acknowledging the point. “Could you do it, do you think?”

“Murder her in her bed?” He shook his head. “No, I don’t think I could but then, neither could anyone else. We are the only ones who can use the Door, after all.”

She nodded. “I just feel it should be able to help us but … how?”

They continued studied the maps closely, throwing a few ideas around. However, it wasn’t long before fingers started to edge closer and caress - their conversation faltering, their breathing speeding up - until Dany deliberately leant over to point out something on the other side of the table and Jon quickly decided that her curves were of far more interest than the various maps and lists in front of him.

From that point on, it was fairly obvious how things were going to progress.

Dany was wide awake now, tempted to return to the warm bed and her husband, but now pacing as a strange restlessness overcame her which she initially put down to concern over the King’s Landing issues. She quickly put on her boots to protect her feet from the chill of the floor and grabbed a scarf, but it was only when she found herself standing outside the Door in the corridor that she began to understand the persistent itch she had felt since first waking up. As she placed her palm on the dark wood Dany realised with absolute certainty what she had to do now. It was a compulsion and one she knew she would be quite unable to ignore.

She raised her scarf to cover her hair, focused on that small thread of warmth leading to another, younger Jon and firmly pushed open the Door.

~o~0~o~

**Winterfell**

It felt very much easier this time.

Perhaps it was because it was no longer a new experience or maybe because Jon was currently with her in Dragonstone and so she was not getting that strange double sense of him that she had experienced before. The pull of him from behind her was strong, certainly, but it felt more comfortable having him there; a gentle cushion of security rather than the violent tug home she had experienced that first time. Despite that, Dany remained by the Door for a while in order to get used to the sensations; waiting for the corridor to stop spinning, her stomach to stop churning and her senses to locate Jon here in this time.

Easy. He was in his room and … quickly moving closer. She turned sharply as the door to his chambers squeaked slowly open and a very small mop of dark curls peeked out from around it. If she had thought the nine year old version of her husband was adorable, this one had her letting out a small whimper of delight. He couldn’t be much more than five here.

The little boy looked up at her with wide eyes, his head tipping to one side like the dire wolf he would one day bond with, and Dany felt a strange jolt of emotion, her eyes briefly misting as the idea she’d tried so hard to bury abruptly surfaced - the sudden realisation that she and Jon could have had a child like this, with dark eyes and black curls. The grief of never having held Drogo’s child seemed worryingly trivial compared to the sudden, desperate want that seized her in that moment.

“H-hello,” the boy said, bringing her abruptly back to the present.

She tried very hard to keep her voice calm. “Hello, Jon.”

“You know my name?” He frowned and she tried not to laugh at the familiar sight. “I don’t remember you.”

“I don’t get to visit very often,” she replied.

He nodded as he continued to stare at her, his mouth slightly open. “You are ever so pretty.”

Dany put her hand over her mouth in delighted surprise at the comment. Jon had already told her what he had thought about her, but to have him say it at such a young age made her heart melt.

“And you are the most handsome boy I have ever seen,” she told him, truthfully.

He shook his head. “No, that’s Robb.” Dany sighed, her heart breaking on hearing his fierce denial, trying to find the words to counter his assertion, although his gaze was now on the Door behind her. “Did you come in that way? I thought it was locked?”

“Sometimes it is,” she replied. “Would you like to try it now?”

Jon bit his lip, frowning. “I-I don’t think I’m supposed to.”

“Really? Why not?” Apparently she had come to visit him before the two of them had met as children.

“I … I don’t know,” the little boy replied. “It just makes me feel … odd.”

“I promise it won’t do you any harm. Just put your hand on the Door and tell me how it feels to you.” Much the same words as Rhaegar had said to her if she remembered correctly.

“It’s warm,” Jon replied, his voice awed.

“Why don’t you open it?”

“Do you think I should?” He turned to her, eyes wide.

Right at that moment, with the strong tug starting to make itself felt, Dany wasn’t sure she could remember exactly how or when she and Jon had first met. She answered before she had thought about it though. As if fate itself was stepping in. If what Bran had said was true, then it probably was.

“It’s perfectly safe I promise,” she replied. “Just twist that ring and push.”

Jon’s nervous expression turned to a sudden, familiar determination and he nodded, not even glancing back at her as he reached up to grab the ring, needing to lean his whole body against the Door in order for it to creak open.

Dany then felt the wildest disorientation as she briefly glimpsed the other side. It was a strange, blurry mix of the dark corridor she knew well and a bright, light one she only vaguely recalled from her childhood. And there, on the other side, was a small, silver-haired figure watching the young Jon walk through to her. There was a long, silence as the two children contemplated each other before the little girl finally spoke.

“Do you want to play?”

And then everything tipped, and Dany found herself falling forwards towards the two children and calling out in surprise. However the floor she landed on was cold, the corridor lit by a weak dawn rather than summer sunshine, and she instantly closed her eyes and rolled into a ball as the now familiar dizziness and nausea kicked in.

“Dany?” Her husband was suddenly by her side, his hand on her shoulder, gently shaking. “What happened? Why are you out here?”

“Door ...” was all she could reply at first, still curled up in a ball until Jon persuaded her to sit up. She attempted it and then abruptly pushed him away as he tried to help her up. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

~o~0~o~

**Jon XXVI**

**Dragonstone (S8 AU)**

“Any better?” Jon asked as Dany came back over to the bed, after throwing up, her face now pale.

“Not really.”

He sighed. “You travelled through time again?”

She nodded. “You going to tell me off again?”

A part of him really wanted to and yet he knew that his wife had been getting frustrated by his over-protectiveness lately.

“No but, Dany, have you thought? This sickness of yours?” She looked up at him, glaring slightly despite her obviously being very weak at the moment. “Have you considered the possibility that you might be pregnant?”

Her annoyed expression quickly turned to one of hurt. “Jon! I told you not to do that. Not to talk about such a thing.”

“That was just idle speculation but this … This is something else, I think.”

“No.” She shook her head, obviously still not ready to consider it.

“I didn’t feel sick when I stepped back to the past, Dany. Not even slightly. Dizzy, yes. Exhausted, most definitely, but my stomach was fine.”

“I don’t see that that makes a difference,” she countered. “Everyone is different.”

“But what if the witch was wrong? What if the Door has made a difference somehow and she couldn’t see that thread as Bran suggested? What if you needed another Targaryen to break the curse and she wouldn’t have seen that either?”

“Please … don’t.”

He adjusted his position on the bed and hugged her, hating to see her so upset. He was on the verge of telling her that it was the absolute truth and he _knew_ she was carrying their child, but had the feeling that she was currently in no state of mind to accept the news.

“Talk to Missandei about it, at least,” he urged. “Or consult with a maester? If it’s not that or the time travel then something might be wrong and you know neither of us can afford to fall ill at this point in time?”

She reluctantly nodded, still clinging to him, and Jon moved himself a bit further onto the bed in order to cuddle her close, stroking her hair as she dosed, initially fighting his own tiredness until he remembered he was actually here in Dragonstone and so would not disappear if he did fall asleep.

“Tell me about your trip,” he said. “You were outside the Winterfell Door so I assume you visited me again?”

“Yes,” she replied. “It was your first vague memory of meeting me,” she mumbled and then quietly giggled. “You were so little and just _so_ adorable.”

“Huh!” he said in response. “Was that before we met?”

“Only just,” she said. “I think ...” She laughed again, suddenly sitting up, her negative emotions briefly forgotten. “Jon. I was the one who told you what to do. I showed you how to use the Door and then watched as you walked through and met … me for the first time.”

He groaned, closing his eyes and shaking his head in frustration. “Never mind a tapestry. This is all just one tangled skein of wool.”

~o~0~o~

They fell asleep soon after, waking in the middle of the night to find the small fire in the room blazing merrily and the table laden with food - Missandei obviously having come downstairs to make sure they had all they needed. Dany admitted that she was now feeling hungry and managed to not only eat a little food but actually keep it all down. Afterwards she decided that she wanted to return to their main chambers and Jon was pleased for the excuse to get her away from the Door and into more luxurious surroundings for a while.

His wife seemed brighter as they headed out of the old wing and over to the royal chambers but she kept one hand on his arm the whole way and was clinging on rather more tightly that she would ordinarily. He watched her closely as she quickly stepped out of her cloak, beautifully naked, and buried herself under the covers. Despite being fairly certain they would only be sleeping now, Jon followed suit and stripped completely before joining her, sighing happily as she snuggled up against him and rested her head on his shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Actually better after that food,” she replied. “Didn’t think I would want to eat at all but I seemed to need it.”

He nodded, remembering. “When you visited me from the near future you mentioned something about that,” he told her. “I was so focused on the information about Bran I forgot about it until now. You said it was important that we ate well before attempting time travel.”

“That makes sense now you say it,” Dany said. “Seeing how tired and light-headed it makes us feel.”

“Another reason for you to see a maester,” Jon suggested carefully. “Because that’s not going to be of much use if you can’t keep anything down.”

“I suppose so.”

“And I would suggest limiting our travelling until these conflicts are over but I think it’s already obvious that that’s not going to work.”

She lifted her head to look at him, smiling weakly. “It’s true. Both times I felt such a compulsion to go to the Door. It was … as if I was being pushed to do it.”

He sighed. “You probably were.” He now understood that he would not be able to dissuade her from attempting it again, despite already knowing it could be dangerous.

She snuggled even closer then, settling her head on his shoulder in order to fall asleep, trying not to react as her hand trailed a little lower and took a hold of him. She have a little huff of a laugh when she realised how hard he was.

“Sorry, my love,” she mumbled. “I am just so very tired right now. Can you forgive me?”

“Don’t be silly,” he replied. “Go to sleep. You should know by now that I’m always like this when I’m around you.”

“But ...”

“Sleep,” he repeated. “I’m tired too. Don’t you worry about me.”

~o~0~o~

Jon had fallen into his recurring nightmare of the ice and cold and thousands of wights, his only relief from the whiteness the occasional blue of the Night King’s gaze or the black of the scores of bodies burying him alive. Stuck in the worst of all the Seven Hells. His punishment for cheating death.

Then he was falling through the darkness - numerous dead hands clawing at him as he struggled to anchor himself - only to be suddenly dropped in the abyss. He hovered briefly in mid-air, desperately scrabbling for something to hold onto, before plunging abruptly into frigid water _so_ cold that it robbed all his breath from him.

He was Snow, and ice was his for eternity.

But then he remembered that that wasn’t entirely true. A part of him was fire.

And, just as soon as he thought this, She was there. Flying in on her dragon. Flames burning the wights to dust and water and melting away the cold, the hurt and the emptiness. Drogon swooping down to pick Jon out of the icy water, his talons a burning comfort, quickly banishing the cold and the dark and the terrifying loneliness.

And then he was falling again, this time landing in Winterfell’s hot springs and suddenly no longer afraid. When he opened his eyes she was naked with him in the water - kissing him tenderly whilst berating him for scaring her - before starting to bathe him, her hands gently caressing him all over.

Jon moaned as her hand reached between his legs, gently washing him but taking far more time there than was absolutely necessary. He sat back in the pool with a groan, widening his legs a little so she could tend to him some more, her caresses becoming more insistent and quickly turning him hard. Then she was stroking him with a fierce determination, whispering in his ear and telling him how beautiful he was. Reminding him that he was safe and warm and loved.

“Dany ….”

His eyes snapped open, disorientated for a moment, until he realised where he was. He was on his back in their bed in the royal chambers at Dragonstone, his wife’s hand firmly gripping him, her head under the covers as she kissed a warm trail down his abdomen.

“Shh … I’ve got you,” she whispered as her lips first licked his cock and then very slowly began to take him into her mouth.

“I was dreaming,” he gasped.

“Hmm?” she mumbled whilst still sucking at him, the vibration causing all sorts of interesting sensations.

“Gods, Dany!”

She pulled slowly off, a hint of her teeth gripping him as well as her lips, her hands now playing with his stones. “Was it a nice dream, Jon?”

“N-not at first.”

Her hand went back to stroking him now as she smiled up at him and licked her lips, the sight of which just made him groan all the more.

“You were having a nightmare,” she said, a sudden frown on her face. “So I thought … well, I hated seeing you like that so … I decided to make you a happier dream.”

“I’m certainly not complaining,” he managed. “But, now I’m awake I should probably tend to you and-”

“-No, she interrupted. “You just lie there and enjoy it. I certainly am.” And she took him back into her mouth so abruptly that he cried out, his hips bucking off the bed.

“I really don’t … think you should … be doing this if you’re feeling sick,” he gasped out.

She giggled whilst still sucking him and he gripped the covers with a low growl at the sensation.

She pulled off him briefly. “On the contrary, I’m finding the taste of you is settling my stomach nicely. Now, stop worrying about me for once and let me take care of you.”

“Dany ...” He half-heartedly started to move, the sudden thought of feasting on her tempting him to force the issue.

“That was an order.”

The quiet command in her voice was somehow even more thrilling than what she had just been doing to him.

“As you say, my queen,” he replied meekly. “I am yours to do with as you will.”

He smirked as he heard her catch her breath, but her surprise didn’t last for long and she soon returned to her task, both hands on his hips as she feasted on him greedily, obviously determined to finish him off like this. Jon threw his head back onto the pillow and let her have way.

~o~0~o~

Dany insisted that her tiredness had gone the following morning although Jon was perfectly aware that she was still throwing up, despite her poor attempts to keep it from him. Missandei had brought a most interesting breakfast for the queen - an unusual looking light broth - and Jon watched the young advisor carefully, noting the focused concern on the girl’s face too. He nodded, reassured. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too long before his wife stopped denying the obvious.

“I thought you might like to come to Camptown with me today, Jon?” she said as she took a few, careful spoonfuls of the soup. “Tyrion was asking after you, in fact. Seemed keen to get reacquainted.”

Jon smiled, genuinely pleased at the news. “That would be good. He was a most interesting companion when we travelled to the Wall together.”

“Interesting?”

He laughed. “I was young and naive and he imparted a number of valuable life lessons on the way up.”

She frowned. “I got the feeling that he was impressed with you though.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“Jon!” she complained.

“What?”

“You really have no idea, do you? About just how charismatic you are?”

He pulled a face. “You’re biased.”

“I’m not.” He raised an eyebrow and she smiled. “Well I _am_ but I’m also right. If nothing else you can blame that on your Targaryen blood?”

He shook his head before pulling her into a brief hug. “I suppose so.”

They left their chambers with Missandei, walking together towards the entrance and then down the long causeway towards the beach. Jon was now thinking about the King’s Landing issues and a question he needed to ask but his wife's warm hand in his quickly distracted him.

“Would you like to walk with me to the dragons?” she asked.

“Of course. Are you heading off to Camptown now?”

“Perhaps in an hour or so, why?”

“Only I thought Arya might like to see what’s going on over there. Have you seen my sister, Missandei?”

“Not this morning, no.”

“Your Grace.” Grey Worm was striding towards their position. “A raven has arrived with an urgent message.”

“For me?” she asked. The Unsullied commander looked over to Jon and dipped his head slightly.

“For both of you.” He turned the scroll so they could see the seal.

“The Nights Watch. Eastwatch,” Jon said, taking it and quickly unfurling it.

“What is it?” she asked, standing on tiptoes to try and look at it.

“Looks like we’ll have to postpone that trip to the camp,” he said. “We’re needed in the north.Tormund wants us there."

“What’s happening?”

“The Night King is on the move.”

~o~0~o~

They hurried back to their chambers - Jon quickly changing into his new, black riding tunic with minimal armour, before adding Longclaw and one of the future long dragonglass daggers to his belt. For good measure he grabbed the sack containing a number of the Valyrian swords and other glass weapons, and hauled it behind him as he headed back outside to meet Dany. Once there, he took one look at his wife dressed in her usual amazing white riding coat and shook his head.

“What?” she asked him.

“We need to get you better protected. You _and_ the dragons. Seeing what Bran said about those spears.”

“True, but it looks like we’ll be seeing what we’re up against for ourselves in a short while.”

“And if they’re attacking now?”

“Then we'll do our best.” She looked down at the sack. “At least we are far more prepared now than we were even a moon ago.”

“That true.” He paused. “How are you feeling?”

She glared at him. “Determined. Are you ready?”

Jon simply nodded in reply, realising that it would do no good for him to worry about her further. He climbed up Rhaegal, already surprised at how used he was to mounting and flying a dragon, and the pair of them lifted off, Viserion following close behind.

They flew high and fast, only descending when they were close to their goal, mindful of Bran’s warning and deciding to use the Wall as a shield as they approached. The structure stood tall and formidable as ever, no sign of breaches or of wights on the wrong side of it.

As they got closer, Jon became aware of the icy mist ahead - a sure sign of wights - and they cautiously lifted up towards its summit, frightening a number of brothers and wildlings manning it in the process. There they were greeted by the strangest sight - row upon row of the dead disappearing back into the trees and spanning east and west as far as the eye could see. Jon contemplated jumping off Rhaegal directly onto the top of the Wall but soon reconsidered, instead following Dany back down to the southern side, the pair of them quickly dismounting and then hurrying over to the castle entrance where they were greeted by Tormund.

“We thought you’d be under attack,” Jon said in way of a greeting.

“We’ve been expecting it too,” the wildling replied, far more serious than usual, “but they’ve just been standing there all day, which in some ways feels much worse. What are they waiting for?”

“Us, probably,” Dany replied quietly. “Or the dragons more likely.” Her face was pale as she turned to Jon and he knew that it was from fear rather than nausea this time, both of them now fully understanding the nature of her warning from the future.

“Well now that you’re here, perhaps it’s time to introduce those wights to your dragons,” Tormund said.

“No,” Dany said, rather too sharply. “That’s exactly what he wants. But we’re not going to play by his rules today.”

“So, what? You just want us to stay here and stare each other out?”

“That’s exactly what we want you to do," Jon replied.  "I take it you’ve got it set up so we’ll hear instantly if they start attacking?”

Tormund looked at him as if he were mad. “You don’t even want to go up there and take a proper look?”

“We will do that in a while, aye. First though I need to talk to those men who came here asking to join you and ask them a few more questions.”

~o~0~o~


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the continuing love on this one. I noticed that AO3 was down for a little while after I'd published chapter 26 and my hits were a bit low, so you might want to double check that you did get to read 26 before continuing with this one. 
> 
> Extra shout-out to the lovely Discerning Tarts for giving me so much support in various ways behind the scenes. 

**Jon XXVII**

**Eastwatch**

“I saw a vision in a fire,” Sandor Clegane told them - his voice surprisingly quiet given his size. “Thousands of dead men. All walking past an arrowhead mountain and heading towards the Wall.”

The man looked much the same as when Jon had seen him in Winterfell during King Robert's visit all those years ago and yet, in some ways, he seemed a completely different man.

Then again, who was he to talk.

“And so you came up here to do, what?” he asked. “Join the Night’s Watch?”

“We didn’t know exactly what was required of us,” Beric Dondarrion replied. “Only that we needed to be here. Since you let us out of the cell we have indeed helped out as much as we could here only … something has felt a little strange. As if we should be riding out and meeting them north of the Wall rather than waiting meekly here for them to come to us.”

The alternative future Bran had mentioned, Jon realised.

“What would be the logic in that though?” he asked, despite his understanding. “The Wall is here for a reason after all.”

“Aye, I know that, lad,” the man said, his one eye looking at the young king knowingly. “But still, there was something we needed to do out there.”

“And do you still feel that compulsion to journey north?” Dany asked him.

Beric turned sharply, looking at her quizzically. “An interesting turn of phrase. No, I don’t believe I do.” He turned to the Hound who shook his head very slightly, whilst Jon and Dany exchanged a look, both of them understanding in that moment that his brother had been correct.

“You two going to tell us what this is all about then?” Sandor asked them, impatiently, noticing their silent exchange.

“Only that something happened to change the path we were travelling on,” Jon replied. “I’m not sure your Fire God will be of much help now.”

“He knows what he’s doing well enough,” Thoros insisted. “We all play our part. Whatever that might be.”

“Perhaps,” Jon replied. “We would certainly be interested to hear of any other visions you may receive from now on.” He looked at the men again, tipping his head as he considered them. “The three of you are formidable fighters, I believe? I may have a few weapons here which could do well in your hands. Ones that can defeat both Wights and White Walkers alike.” He turned to the sack to pull out three of the swords and handed them over.

“This is Valyrian Steel,” Sandor said. “Where the fuck did you get a hold of these?”

“Perhaps the Lord of Light sent them?” Jon replied lightly, earning a mixture of glares and smirks for his cheek.

“I suppose that’s your way of telling us not question such a gift?” Beric asked. “I can understand that.” He took the blade and studied it. “Wights _and_ White Walkers? Are you sure?”

“Aye. I’ve slain both with mine.”

The man nodded. “Then you have our thanks. I do believe we’re going to need all the help we can get in the upcoming fight.”

~o~0~o~

“You’re seriously just going to ignore them?” Tormund asked Jon and Dany when they met him again at the top of the Wall. There they stood far below - rows upon rows of them - and Jon’s sword hand twitched uncomfortably at the sight, the warrior part of him itching to jump into the fray.

“They’re waiting for us to attack,” he told the wildling. “The Night King has set a trap for the dragons and is expecting us to fall into it.”

“And so?”

Jon looked at Dany who just shrugged. “It feels strange to do nothing, I know,” she said, “but it looks like the information we were given was correct. We will need to think carefully about how to engage him without giving him what he wants.”

“Aye,” Jon said. “Armour for the dragons? A way of securing us firmly onto their backs so that we can twist more quickly out of harm’s way?”

“And so you just want us to stay here and glare at the fuckers in the meantime?” Tormund asked, sounding a little disgruntled.

“We could bring a few extra men over here,” Jon said, “although I have no wish to leave the other castles undermanned. We must make sure that this isn’t just a distraction from other, smaller groups he might have sent further west. We now need to be extra certain of our communication abilities so that we can fly back up here at the the slightest movement from them and we should also force the issue of evacuation now, I think. Last Hearth and anyone else still living up here will need to get south. Some of us _have_ to be in the line of fire but let’s get the rest just as far away from him as possible.”

~o~0~o~

“Rhaegal will need to stay with you now,” Dany told him later that evening, as they lay in bed in the modest chambers they had been assigned. It was now too late to travel south and yet they knew they would not get much sleep tonight - simply taking the chance to rest before heading off to make a start to their new plans.

“How will he cope with that, do you think?” Jon asked.

“He should be fine. You two have a bond developed already.” She sighed. “I just don’t have the time to be carrying you to various places whilst also doing my own flying. Two of us on two dragons means we can double the castles we can reach.”

He nodded. “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“I’ll fly south to let Tyrion know what’s happening and perhaps consult with Davos’ blacksmith friend? I suspect it’s far too late to create enough armour for all three dragons but it’s probably worth checking anyway.”

“You would think we would have been warned about such a thing,” Jon said before immediately shaking his head. “Although we probably shouldn’t be taking the Door for granted in that way.”

“Probably not,” she agreed. “Anyway, while I’m gone, you should stay here in the north and make a start on those evacuations. You could also pass on this latest news to Castle Black and Winterfell if you get the chance and at least then you’ll be fairly close if things up here change abruptly. I’ll also try to fly a few of my very best fighters up here when I return. I need strategists down in King’s Landing more than I need elite soldiers and there are a couple of my men who would be of great use up here with a Valyrian sword in their hands.”

Jon nodded. “You’re right and, assuming there’s no problem with Rhaegal being left with me, I could do with the extra flying practice anyway. Bran said his old vision showed you and Drogon avoiding a spear and implied that having riders would keep the dragons safer. Hopefully, if we _do_ have to fight, we can keep Viserion mostly out of it.”

“Dragon fire isn’t going to kill the Night King, is it?” Dany asked.

“I doubt it,” he replied. “Ordinary fire certainly doesn’t work on the White Walkers.”

“So we best keep all of them skirting on the edge of the action,” she said. “Fly them down to burn a few rows of wights and then soar quickly up before they can be hit?”

Jon frowned, thinking about Dany’s riding skills and seriously doubting his own ability with the limited practice time now available to them.

“We’ll need Valyrian swords for the White Walkers though and I always assumed I’d be on the ground to confront the Night King with Longclaw.”

Her voice when she replied was steely. “Oh you did, did you?”

He winced, avoiding her gaze. “It is where my true skill lies, after all.”

“We will have plenty of soldiers equipped with Valyrian swords now, Jon but, as you yourself said, we need riders to keep the dragons safe and, unless you know of any other Targaryen dragon riders, then I’m going to need you up in the air on Rhaegal.”

He groaned, tiredness making it suddenly hard to think of any suitable retort. “Let’s try and get some rest then and we’ll make a start on all of this tomorrow. Hopefully we’ve still got time before we have to worry about the fight itself.”

~o~0~o~

**Dany XXVII**

**Eastwatch & Dragonstone**

They had both managed to briefly fall asleep, only to be rudely awoken by shouting and a general clamouring outside their chambers. Exchanging a quick, nervous glance, the couple got up in silence and dressed quickly, Jon strapping on Longclaw as they exited, obviously anticipating a fight.

“Are they attacking?” Jon asked the nearest young Brother who rushed passed them.

“No, ser,” the lad replied, obviously not recognising him, despite her presence by his side. “They’ve gone.”

“Gone?” Dany asked.

The boy turned towards her and nodded before immediately lowering his gaze - cheeks pink - and then scurrying off. She exchanged a glance with her husband; half amused by the young man’s reaction to her, half frustrated at the strange news.

Discovering no-one in authority down here in the castle, the pair headed up to the top of the Wall to find Tormund deep in conversation with a number of the commanders.

“Ah, there you are,” he said. “Looks like you were right. Once we didn’t attack, they gave up and wandered off. Any thoughts about where they’re heading to next?”

“I could fly up to check?” Dany suggested.

Jon winced. “I’m not sure. Perhaps that’s what he wants.”

“I’ll be perfectly safe if I stay really high,” she reasoned, “and that mist they create will show me their location long before they can see me.”

“I suppose so.”

“We can go up there together anyway,” she suggested, “and then I think it’s best to go ahead with the plan we discussed last night, even considering this latest development?”

“Aye,” Jon agreed. “He’s got something new planned, I’m sure of it.” He frowned, thinking hard. “I think now that a visit to Winterfell is essential, assuming Rhaegal doesn’t object. I need to tell Sansa what’s going on here and also talk to Bran about … this.”

“Of course.” With any luck the young man might have had a new vision and could give them some more clues.

So, with one final check to confirm the communication plans, she and Jon headed out towards the dragons, both mounting quickly and then flying upwards and slightly north to confirm that the Night King and his army were definitely moving westwards. That done they all turned south; Jon heading towards Last Hearth to start the evacuation whilst Dany continued alone on Drogon, surprised at how strange it felt to have only two dragons with her now and hoping Rhaegal would understand her command and not suddenly decide to follow her.

Her first stop was Dragonstone and a brief meeting there with Missandei, Grey Worm and the commander of her Dothraki, letting them know what had been happening in the north and what she planned to do next.

“Tomorrow I will fly over to Camptown and discuss the King’s Landing issues that Tyrion mentioned in his last scroll. It doesn’t look like I’ve time to deal with Cersei right now so I’ll just have to trust that my people there can continue with the holding plan whilst I fly my most able knights and soldiers north to deal with the main threat.”

“I should be with you in that fight, my Queen,” Grey Worm said and Dany glanced over at Missandei who had dropped her head at the comment. Her commander also saw the young advisor’s reaction. “I am Unsullied and I serve Queen Daenerys. You know it is what I have to do.”

She nodded. “I know. I understand. Should I also travel north with you, Your Grace?”

“Not quite yet,” Dany replied. “I may still need to fly down here whilst the attack is uncertain and would rather you were here in Dragonstone when I do. Just as in all my other castles, we need to keep enough people here to maintain and defend it whilst all of this is going on.”

“I understand.”

“Good. It’s late now though, so we’ll rest here tonight and I’ll travel to the camp first thing tomorrow morning.”

~o~0~o~

Dany headed down to the old wing, taking her supper there before getting ready for bed. Despite having thrown up her earlier meals, she was unable to manage more than a few bites of food, even if those small mouthfuls did at least remain in her stomach. A firm pull from the Castle Black Door alerted her soon afterwards and she smiled as Jon stepped over, quickly moving into his arms with a loud, contented sigh as he rested his chin on her head.

“I’m just staying at Castle Black for tonight,” he told her. “Then I shall continue with the evacuation work first thing tomorrow. I’ve decided I’m not happy with _anyone_ living north of Winterfell right now. In fact, if things turn really bad, we might _all_ need to consider moving down past the Neck. Defensively I think that would be far better.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” she said. “But, yes, get as many as you can just as far south as possible. If they’re not able to fight then they’re of far more use to me down here. We’re sparsely populated in the south after the wars and with so many fighting men now in the north, so there will be plenty of work here for fishermen, servants and artisans of all types.”

“Aye. The northerners are being stubborn about leaving their homes but I’m working hard to assert my authority.” He huffed a laugh. “Having a dragon around helps with that, of course.”

She laughed. “It certainly does. How is Rhaegal? Is he fretting about being apart from his brothers?”

“He seems content enough. As far as I can tell. I get the feeling I’d have little hold on him if he was truly unhappy here.”

“It’s what’s been worrying me, certainly.”

Jon nodded. “I probably shouldn’t stay for long, Love. It’s going to be a busy day for both of us tomorrow.”

“Yes, but I do hope you’re not thinking of leaving straight away.”

“Certainly not.” He pulled away to look down at her, smirking slightly, one gentle hand on her cheek. “Bed? Desk? Door? Hearth rug? Any preferences?”

~o~0~0~

Dany woke up alone in her childhood bed in the depths of the night with her stomach rumbling loudly. Still feeling exceptionally tired, she initially tried to ignore the hunger but it wasn’t long before she gave up up, getting out of bed to put on her boots and travelling cloak and moving into the living room to eat the food she had been unable to finish earlier. She took it slowly, making sure her stomach felt quite settled before eating a little more, pleasantly surprised at how much she was actually able to manage. She paced between mouthfuls, wondering at the itch she was now feeling, her gaze constantly drifting over to the Castle Black Door whilst she told herself off for the obvious temptation. Jon needed his sleep, as did she, and yet she was feeling quite desperate to step through for some reason.

“Of course!” She remembered this sensation now. It was the same as her previous compulsions to step through to Winterfell but now the urge was here at _this_ Door. “Uncle Aemon?” she wondered as she moved closer.

It was all very well getting opinions from Bran who could not use this magic, or gain cryptic instructions from the future, but they did have this one other source of knowledge from the past. A Targaryen who she knew had used the Doors when he was younger. Dany placed a palm on the wood and thought about the old man, trying hard to recall him from those couple of brief visits she had made all those years ago. She had never met him in person, of course, but she assumed that wouldn’t matter. After all, she had never actually met Rhaegar, neither had Jon, and yet her brother had managed to visit both of them through time which meant it _had_ to be possible.

The tug to Jon in the present was inevitably strong, but Dany now felt it was possible to simply acknowledge the sensation and put it to one side, instead searching for the time threads and finding that there were now numerous ones reaching out to her. She still didn’t know _exactly_ how this all worked but started with those memories of her uncle. Of his room in Castle Black. Of a time when he was still alive up there.

All those numerous small threads - quiet but tempting. Which one should she focus on? Which one could she travel through? She sensed Jon again and shook her head.

“No. I need to visit Aemon.”

And now one was within her grasp, just a little brighter and warmer than the others. Dany grabbed a hold of it, took a deep breath and pushed open the Door.

~o~0~o~

**Castle Black**

Steeling herself against the obvious force of time travel, Dany took a deep breath and stepped through to the maester’s chambers on the other side. She was now familiar with the room in the present, but also remembered this version from her early visits, helping to confirm that she was in the past, even if it wasn’t for the familiar but unwelcome drag now causing her stomach to lurch. Still, it continued to feel easier each time she attempted it, the large meal she had just eaten apparently being more of a help than a hindrance, just as she would end up telling Jon in the future.

“Hello? Uncle Aemon?”

There was a pause. “Daenerys? Is that you?”

“Yes it is.” Hearing the old man shift in bed, she walked slowly toward the dying fire, throwing on some logs to allow it to burn more brightly and help her to see a little better.

“Ah, thank you, my dear. The summer is nearly over now, I fear, and my poor old bones are not at all happy about the fact.”

“How are you?” she asked, moving closer to his bed, surprised at how much easier it felt this time. A strange double pull forwards negating the single, strong one from behind.

“Old, tired and worried but that’s nothing new.” He tipped his head, looking in her direction, despite his blindness. “You are older too. I can hear it in your voice. Give me your hands, my dear.”

She did as he bid and Aemon briefly squeezed her fingers before trailing his own hands up her arms and shoulders in order to cup her face in his palms, studying her face with his fingers as he had before.

“I have many questions for you, Uncle,” she said, “although my time here is limited.”

He nodded. “It is close to three years since you last visited me and yet I get the feeling that more time has passed for you than that?”

“Yes, over ten years. Perhaps closer to eleven.”

“Ah, so you are a _true_ Dragon now. Able to travel through time?”

“Yes, although we are still fairly new at it which is why I need to ask you some questions.”

“We?”

Dany winced. “Ah ...”

Only now did she recognise the second pull she had felt since arriving. Jon was here in this time too.

“It’s still trial and error,” she told him, deciding to ignore the question. “I wanted to visit you and sensed a number of threads within the Door but I still feel there should be an easier way somehow? A way to isolate one particular thread and travel exactly to where I want to go?”

“I don’t believe you will ever be able to guarantee _that_ sort of accuracy,” Aemon told her. “Although, with time and practice you will slowly start to gain a little more control. Mostly it’s a matter of focus and avoiding the temptation of all the other pulls you’ll feel. For example, you just hinted that there is another Dragon travelling during your time. If that is true then the pull from him will probably be a distraction whenever you try to visit someone else.”

“Well,” she started, nervously. “I … I didn’t want to say ...”

Aemon chuckled. “I was most surprised on meeting one of our new recruits recently. A young man with a northern accent and a northern name, but the pull I felt when I met him was quite unmistakable.”

She gasped. “You know. You _always_ knew.”

“How could I not? Aren’t all Targaryens drawn to one another? Do we not feel the pull even without a Dragon Door in-between us?”

“Of course.” It seemed obvious now he said it. “But he doesn’t know. I mean … _your_ Jon doesn’t?”

“You know better than I how he got from here to there, my dear, and probably best we don’t talk too much about that considering. All the same, it amuses me just how easily Eddard Stark has been able to fool the whole realm. How everyone has been _so_ willing to believe that he would break his marriage vows.”

“I think it’s because Jon looks and sounds so northern. If you couldn’t feel the magic it would be impossible to tell, except ...” She laughed. “You can probably ‘see’ it better than those of us with working eyes, Uncle. His temperament makes it obvious too, I imagine.”

Aemon nodded. “Everything about the young man screams ‘Rhaegar’ to me, but you’re probably right in saying that it’s far less obvious to those who are dependant on surface appearances.” He paused, tipping his head. “You realise that it’s likely that you were only able to come through tonight because _he_ was here? Or at least, it was easier to travel to me because of his presence?”

She sighed. “I’m beginning to see that, yes.”

“And you are in love with him, I think?”

She smiled. “We are married in fact.” She saw the old man frown at her comment and winced, belatedly remembering Jon’s vows here at the Night’s Watch. “Do you really want that question answered, Uncle? You did just say I should not talk of your future, after all.”

He smiled. He did have such a lovely smile, she decided. “You are quite right and it’s a lesson I tried so hard to teach Rhaegar that I now need to remember myself, although knowledge of the future probably matters less at my advanced age.”

“Did you know my brother well?” Dany was still feeling the pull back home but it was nowhere near as bad as last time.

“I did. He visited me in person as well as via the Door over the years and kept me informed of much of his news. He pushed himself too hard in the end though, got himself in a muddle over the prophecies he read and heard and the visits through time that he both made and received.”

“What visits did he receive?” she asked.

“Visits from the future warning him about his father and Tywin.” Aemon’s next, small smile seemed a little sly. “Visits from his children, he believed, telling him to take his family to Dragonstone and keep them there no matter what.” He looked up towards her, his head tipped. “I don't suppose you would know anything about that?”

“No, I told you. We’ve only just worked out how to travel this way.”

“Only your brother always believed he was to have three children who would all be able to use the Doors. The Three-Headed Dragon.”

“Well, he _did_ have three in the end, although only Jon ended up with the ability.”

Aemon nodded. “So, he got that wrong too. He always seemed very certain about his three children saving the realm.”

“Yes,” she mumbled. That appeared to confirm what Jon remembered of _his_ conversation with Rhaegar.

“Your brother was obsessed by so many things in the end,” Aemon continued. “Summerhall, his role in history, the Dragon Doors and what they could do, as well as the three headed Dragon. That last one most of all.”

She nodded. “I remember some of that from when I was small.”

“Anyway, I imagine you will need to be leaving soon.”

“Yes, I’m starting to feel uncomfortable now.”

“Any more questions for me?”

“How did you feel when you first travelled through time, Uncle? What problems did it cause you?”

“Mostly extreme exhaustion and some dizziness. Especially if I hadn’t eaten much beforehand.”

“Yes, I just ate well, which is why I think I’ve been able to stay here so long this time.” Now she was thinking about it though, it felt as if the tug home had eased a little and Dany swayed on her seat as she felt a light pull in the opposite direction - to the corridor outside of this room. “Did you … did it ever make you feel sick?”

“I don’t remember th-”

A sudden knock interrupted him and Dany stood up with a small gasp as Aemon hastily indicated that she should head back towards the Dragon Door.

“Yes?” the old man called out. “Who is it?”

“It’s Jon Snow. I’m sorry to disturb you, Maester Aemon but you did say I should come at any time if the pain in my hand became too much to bear.”

Dany gasped at the familiar voice, turning back briefly with a bright smile.

“Of course. Just give me a moment.”

The old man flicked his hand at her in a shooing movement and Dany found herself automatically moving towards the Door despite the temptation to stay. She pushed it open, gasping as the strong drag almost pulled her off her feet, briefly holding onto the door frame as she heard Aemon call out for young Jon to enter, before quickly shutting the Door behind her. Then she staggered back into the living room at Dragonstone and collapsed onto a chair, definitely feeling queasy and dizzy but nowhere near as bad as before. The food had obviously helped as well as the fact that she had returned home before the drag had become unbearable. Jon’s presence in the past had also been useful, she decided, but she now wished that she _had_ stayed just to see if it would have made a difference somehow. Should she have tried? Would Jon then suddenly remember seeing her in Castle Black one night? Was that even possible? At least she could still talk about it with him when they next met up. Ask him if he remembered going to Maester Aemon one night because his hand was hurting? 

That was the last thing she remembered before sleep dragged her under and quite some time passed before she forced herself to stagger back to her childhood bed to fall asleep properly. Tomorrow was definitely going to be a challenge but she knew she shouldn’t feel guilty about her little excursion.

These visits were inevitable, apparently.

~o~0~o~

“Your Grace? Daenerys?”

Dany opened her eyes to see Missandei looming over her and looking concerned. “It’s time to get up, I suppose,” she said with a groan.

“If you are well enough?”

It was a real effort for her to sit up.  Her head pounded and her stomach twisted but she knew she only had herself to blame. She had known last night just how hard this was going to be on her today.

“I’ll be fine,” she said, more to convince herself than Missandei. “Let’s get this day started.”

“You ate all your supper?” Her friend sounded surprised as she noticed the tray. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“Ugh, no. Definitely not.”

“Some of that broth perhaps?”

She winced. “Perhaps a little before I leave.”

Missandei sighed, her eyes lowered. “Your Grace. I know what you have said before about the witch’s curse but, have you considered …? I mean, I was thinking that perhaps...?”

Dany glared at her. “Not you too?”

“Too?”

“Jon has already wondered if I might be pregnant.”

“I … I think it could well be true. All the signs are there and-”

Dany held up a hand, shaking her head. “I told you. I was cursed. The dragons are the only children I will ever have.”

“You have your own magic,” Missandei continued. “It seems quite possible that such a curse would not fully work on you. Or perhaps these Doors of yours have healed you somehow? Maybe it was nothing more than an idle threat and … spending so much time with your husband has helped?”

“We’ve not spent _that_ much time together,” she replied. “Not properly.”

Missandei smiled, slyly. “No but, when you are together, you do spend … a lot of time together.”

Dany laughed at that, despite her frustration over the conversation. She shook her head and placed her hands on her stomach, remembering then just how often Jon had done so recently.

“I have put on some weight, it’s true and, considering how little I’ve been eating …”

She nodded. “You have changed, Your Grace, in many ways. I believe that it is true.” Missandei frowned a little. “What was it that made your husband suspect?”

“My sickness mostly but also ...”

Dany gasped, a hand to her mouth as she suddenly made the final connection. Jon had been visited by her four months into the future. If she _was_ pregnant now than during that visit she would have been quite obviously showing. Was _that_ why he had appeared quite so adamant? Was that why he had been so overprotective recently?”

“What is it?” her friend asked.

She glowered. “My husband has been keeping information from me and I am not best pleased. I shall be having some strong words with him when we next meet up.” She shook her head, trying to put that to one side. “Help me dress please, Missandei. I’ve neither the time nor the desire to discuss this further. Right now I urgently need to fly down to Camptown.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the scene with Aemon. There's a LOT in that conversation for you to mull over with a number of hints for what's coming up. 
> 
> I've always wondered if Aemon knew about Jon's true parentage in canon. I would love to think he did but hadn't given it much thought when I started writing this fic. The question was in the back of my mind when I wrote Dany's first visits to him but it was only when I got to this point that I realised my answer was already woven into this AU and that he would have definitely felt the pull. But what about Jon? He'll give his own opinion on that a little later on.
> 
> Update News. I am pleased to announce that I've moved far enough ahead with my own writing to be able to guarantee these weekly updates until the very end of this fic (assuming no major RL issues). That has been from the end of May 2018 to the end of January 2019 without having to take a pause which I'm both pleased and stunned about. I'm now getting to the point where I'm quietly looking at a few new Jonerys ideas and trying to see what might be next.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as ever, to [the-last-targaryens](Thanks,%20as%20ever,%20to%20the-last-targaryens%20for%20the%20amazing%20moodboard.%20%20Getting%20harder%20now%20to%20find%20relevant%20images%20for%20this%20AU%20without%20giving%20away%20spoilers%20but%20it's%20fun%20trying.%20%20This%20one%20will%20take%20us%20to%20the%20end%20of%20Act%205.) for the amazing moodboard. Getting harder now to find relevant images for this AU without giving away spoilers but it's fun trying. This one will take us to the end of Act 5.

****

**Dany XXVIII**

**Camptown**

Everything was a struggle for Dany that morning. She started by throwing up the small amount of broth she had attempted to eat and so had to leave for King’s Landing on an empty stomach, whilst still feeling exceptionally tired and drained from her visit to Aemon the night before.

“You look dreadful,” Tyrion observed as she entered her pavilion in Camptown.

“I had a disturbed night,” she replied, glaring at him for his rudeness, “but that is neither here nor there. Things are happening beyond the Wall and I’m going to need to return there quickly. Preferably with a few extra soldiers if Drogon has no objection to carrying them.”

“There are things we need to discuss though,” Tyrion said. “I have been staying in touch with Jaime, you see, and he said-”

“-I understand there are problems here, Tyrion and I’m frustrated about everything too, but I’m afraid the issues in the north really are far more urgent. Do you best to keep everyone safe in the city for just a little longer and, if necessary, I’ll return with Drogon and put an end to the problem once and for all.”

Her Hand winced but nodded his understanding and she quickly turned her attention to Varys. “I need to get messages to Ser Jorah, Ser Davos and … Gendry, was it?”

“Yes,” the Spider replied. “Ser Jorah is already here in the camp, as it happens, and I shall send word immediately to the others. We have a clear and relatively safe passage in and out of the city nowadays and so I should be able to have them here for you later today.”

She sighed. “I would have preferred to have left tonight but tomorrow will do well enough. Thank you, Lord Varys.” Her stomach lurched and she held up her hand against any further comment. “We’ll continue this a little later, My lords. Right now I urgently need to rest.”

~o~0~o~

Jorah’s eyes lit up as he entered her pavilion some time later and he smiled brightly. “Khaleesi,” he said. “It is good to see you.” He frowned slightly. “Are you well?”

She rolled her eyes at the question. So much for hoping she could forget about that particular subject for a while.

“I am. Just a little tired. How has it been going in the city?”

“There have been a few problems but it's been mostly going to plan. Cersei has not been making things easy but word is spreading about the aid we’re offering within the new Dragon Quarter as well as news on how much better life is for those who have managed to escape to Camptown. It will take a little while yet but I’m confident we will have the city under your control soon, if not the Red Keep itself.”

“Well, hopefully that work can continue without your assistance, Ser Jorah. Would you travel with me back north and help with the fight up there?”

He frowned slightly. “You know that I am yours to command, Khaleesi.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at him more brightly then. “And I have a gift for you. A sword.” She opened the sack and placed the three weapons she had brought here onto the table. “Take your pick.”

Jorah looked at them and gasped. “Valyrian steel?”

“Yes. There are not many of these left, but they destroy White Walkers and we need them in the hands of our best fighters.”

“Then, I am honoured.” He nodded. “My family had one, did you know?”

“I did,” she replied, “and I know of its current whereabouts.”

“Oh?”

“I understand that your father gifted Longclaw to my husband when they were serving in the Night’s Watch together.” She noted his frown. “That bothers you a little, I would imagine.”

He shook his head. “No, I lost all rights to that sword many years ago although ...” He paused, considering. “Your husband must be as charismatic as they say, to have earned the favour of both my father and of you.”

“He is, and no doubt you will meet him soon enough. A formidable fighter himself, I understand, although he has other skills that may be of more use in our fight against the dead.”

“Oh?”

She waved a hand, dismissing the question. “A story for another time. I journeyed down here to collect you, Ser Davos, Gendry and a couple of other knights that Tyrion believes will be of use to us up there.”

And one of those knights was a huge surprise to her when the group finally arrived in her pavilion later that evening. Tyrion had mentioned that he was still in contact with his brother after their first, unsuccessful negotiations with Queen Cersei but she had no idea that he would be switching sides. The infamous Kingslayer stood in front of her now, head slightly bowed.

“I imagine this is as uncomfortable for you as it is for me,” Jaime Lannister said with an embarrassed smile. Charming in his own way, Dany decided, although she doubted she would have been impressed even if it wasn’t for her attachment to Jon and their family’s history. “Would it help at all if I said I’m sorry?”

“From what I’ve been told you have little to regret as far as my father’s death is concerned,” she replied. “I think perhaps you should save your apologies for those who need it more.” She lifted her chin to look at the man directly. “Young Brandon Stark for example?”

He winced. “Yes.”

She shook her head. “Although, to be honest, none of us really have time to stand here apologising for all the wrongs we or our families have done to each of our new allies. I believe we should deal with all of that _after_ the fight in the north is done.” She considered him again. “You are to join us up there?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I have tried to explain the situation to my sister but I'm afraid she is … not seeing reason at the moment as I think you may have gathered. Tyrion has persuaded me to join you though and, although I am less than half the fighter I used to be, I do have a Valyrian sword which I understand will be of great use in this northern fight?”

She nodded, looking down at it with an approving nod. “Thank you. It will.” She considered him again. “Why did you leave Cersei to join us?”

“Many reasons although … she does actually know I’m here.”

“Our sister asked Jaime to come spy on _us_ , in fact,” Tyrion said, smirking.

She tipped her head, considering him. “And are you? Spying on us?”

Jaime smiled again. “When I return I shall tell Cersei everything I saw up there, just as I promised her. She does not believe the tales of walking dead men beyond the Wall so, if you are telling the truth, then you have nothing to fear from me.”

She glanced at Tyrion who simply nodded at her - a small smile on his lips - and she sighed, secretly hating all this spying and subterfuge, despite understanding its necessity. She then turned her attention to the man by the Kingslayer’s side.

“This is Ser Bronn of the Blackwater,” Jaime said, replying to her silent question.

“Are you a good fighter, Ser Bronn?” Dany asked.

“I was a sellsword for many years and so I do have some skill … Your Grace?”

She smiled at the question. “That is correct, although there are still three of us going by that title at the moment.”

“Yes,” Jaime said. “My brother tells me you have a marriage alliance with the King in the North.”

“I do.”

“Jon Snow?”

“Yes.” There had been no reason so far to explain his parentage to anyone outside his immediate family.

“I met him once, you know?” Jaime said then. “Interesting lad. Very serious. Reminded me a little of someone I knew many years ago.”

“Oh?” Dany asked, trying to keep her expression neutral. Jaimie would have met Rhaegar of course.

“Had no idea who at the time, but now that strange rumours are filtering down here about a second dragon rider, I admit I would be most interested in making his acquaintance again.”

“I imagine that is very likely,” she replied, working hard to avoid his gaze. So much for keeping their joint flights a secret. “I have acquired a couple of Valyrian swords of my own, Ser Jaime, with instructions to give them to only to the very best fighters. Do you think that Ser Bronn would qualify?”

“I would,” he replied. “Deserves it more than I do, certainly.”

“Although, to be fair, that’s not saying much,” Bronn replied with a smirk. “However, if you’re telling me that these fancy weapons give me a better chance of staying alive to actually enjoy the castle I’ve been promised, then gift away, Your Grace.”

~o~0~o~

**Dragonstone**

Later in the day they were joined by Ser Davos and the blacksmith Gendry, and the whole group quickly made ready to leave Camptown the following morning. Fortunately, Drogon accepted his four new passengers without complaint, although the return journey to Dragonstone was to be far slower and more cautious with the extra people on his back. The dragon was large enough to carry even more than this in theory, but Dany couldn’t help wonder if it might be easier to take two trips up to the Wall itself, especially as the need to return there seemed rather less urgent now. As it turned out though, Gendry was curious about the mine, the dragonglass weapons and her passing comment about how her children might be protected from attack and so he, Davos and Grey Worm decided to stay on the island a little longer. That meant that Dany’s next flight would only require her to carry two passengers up to Eastwatch.

She was now exhausted and somehow both hungry and not at all in the mood for food at the same time. It was still fairly early in the day, so it was to be a brief stop here on the island before flying back up to the Wall the next day. She was also keen to check in with Jon via the Door tonight and so quickly made her way to the old wing, soon feeling the all too familiar tug from the corridor and realising that he was now at Winterfell.

Dany stood in the corridor for some time, trying to get a sense of him, but the tugs were lazy and confusing and she suspected that her husband was too busy for a visit now anyway. It was also the wrong time of day for her to risk stepping through and so she instead wrote him a note to inform him all going to plan and slipped the tiny scroll under the Door for him to discover later. Once she had ferried her passengers up to Eastwatch she would quickly check the situation with Tormund and then either fly to her husband or wait for him to visit her.

She moved closer to the Door, tears stinging her eyes as she felt suddenly overwhelmed by the exhaustion and the effort of _not_ thinking about the conversation she and Missandei had had the day before. Dany placed both hands on her stomach, surprised to note the quite obvious curve that she had somehow missed or chosen to ignore before, and allowed the tears to flow. Then she leant against the warmth of the Door, trying to remember how cross she was with her husband right now but just desperately needing his arms around her in that one moment.

“I hope it’s true,” she said as she caressed her belly. “I hope you’re in there.” She moved closer to the Door until her stomach was firmly pressed up against it. “Will you be a Dragon too? Can you feel that warmth? Can you sense your father on the other side?”

She stepped away abruptly, shaking her head, rubbing away the tears and telling herself off for daring to talk to this imagined baby as if its existence were real. But it was too late, she realised. She already _had_ accepted it. She had no idea how it had happened but she now knew that somehow, miraculously, she was carrying Jon’s child. Another Targaryen. Then Dany remembered the weapons from the future and cloth that they had been wrapped in - The Dragon and the Wolf - and the tears flowed anew.

“Our House, Jon,” she sobbed. “We will not be the last after all.”

~o~0~o~

**Jon XXVIII**

**Winterfell**

Having ordered the evacuation of the few northern settlements that were still occupied, Jon directed Rhaegal to fly him south to Winterfell. He arrived during another harsh blizzard, urging the dragon to seek shelter in the Wolfswood whilst he scurried towards the castle, mourning his lack of cloak which was not at all practical on dragon back. He now needed to find Sansa and appraise her of all the latest developments.

He had arrived during the evening meal held in the Great Hall – a far more common event now there were so many visiting lords, ladies and soldiers here. He immediately noticed his brother and sister at the head table and strode towards them, grabbing a platter and a leg of chicken on his way up, his stomach rumbling loudly.

“Have you not been eating?” Sansa scolded him in way of greeting. Jon grinned as he piled his plate high with a few other choice pieces of meat and bread.

“I have, aye. I’ve just been very busy and all the dashing around has made me extra hungry.” He took another large bite. “I have plenty to tell you though.”

He explained the basics, warning Sansa that there were likely to be even more people heading here now, despite having tried to persuade them that travelling even further south would be more helpful.

“We’re not sure where the Night King is heading other than ‘west’ so, honestly, I’m not sure that anywhere up here is safe now. If he does break through we might even need to abandon Winterfell altogether and set up defences at The Neck.”

Sansa frowned. “There’s no need to worry about that yet, surely?” Jon just shrugged and turned to Bran.

“He seemed to very quickly change his mind about staying at Eastwatch and I couldn’t help but remember what you said before and wondered if he might have received a new vision?”

Bran nodded. “I shall head to the tree after this and check. Perhaps now this new future will be visible to me.” He tipped his head, regarding Jon closely. “At least as long as the pair of you don’t go and change it again.”

Jon laughed at the joke as he took another few greedy mouthfuls. Still surprised at his sudden hunger.

The feast went on well into the night and it was very late when Jon finally headed to his chambers in the First Keep, deciding to stay close to Bran in case he had news for him the following day. He was standing in front of the Dragon Door before he realised it, no longer needing to remove his glove in order to sense either the general warmth or the more subtle threads underneath. Good news considering just how cold it was up here now. He thought he could sense Dany on the other side too, although the pull was not quite as strong as he would have expected, making him think she wasn’t in the old wing right now. Perhaps that might help him sense the lighter threads. After all he had just eaten really well and …

Jon gasped, looking down in surprise at the clothes he was currently wearing; well fitting black trousers and a thick, dark jacket, minus the usual cloak. He had Longclaw at his hip and very basic armour - perfectly dressed for dragon riding and fighting in case either of those skills had been required at Eastwatch. Was this it then? Was it now? He exhaled loudly, flexing his shoulders and hands.

“Am I ready for this?” he mumbled out loud, bouncing on his toes, getting himself geared up for a potential fight as his mind wandered back to Dany’s memories of that night about ten years ago.

He stayed there for a little while, a small quiet itch getting steadily stronger and more insistent until he felt he could resist it no longer. With another big sigh, he placed his left hand back on the Door, grabbed at the one thread which suddenly flared bright and hot under his hand and pushed.

~o~0~o~

**Dragonstone**

It was totally dark on the other side and Jon quickly assumed a fighting stance, one hand on his sword hilt, as he attempted to get his bearings. He could hear shouting ahead of him along with the unmistakable sounds of metal hitting metal. The attacking soldiers were already here and quickly moving closer. He found it interesting to note that, unlike the last time, he now knew he had travelled through time and had absolutely no doubt as to _when_ this was. The pull from the Door was strong but definitely nowhere near as bad as before. Apparently Dany had been correct. Food _definitely_ helped when travelling in time and he was currently close to bursting.

‘ _But what am I supposed to do now?’_ The sounds of the soldiers approaching quickly making his mind up for him and he turned left, opening the door to the living room and having to use his memory due to the almost total darkness here. _‘No moon tonight,’_ he thought. _‘The perfect time for an attack.’_

He turned left and into Dany’s chambers, still relying on his memory to locate her bed and knowing it had remained in the same place so she would always return to it after visiting him. Jon moved cautiously forwards - feeling his way - kneeling down next to the bed and leaning forwards towards the faintest hint of silver hair he could see on the pillow.

“Daenerys. Wake up!”

She had not known it was him at the time and Jon decided that using her full name now would probably help with that. He felt her jolt awake more than saw it.

“What? Who …?” Her voice was higher pitched. _So_ much younger. A smile threatened but he forced it down. The sounds of fighting were getting closer and he really needed to focus.

“You have to leave here now,” he told her. “It’s no longer safe.”

“The Usurper has finally come for us.”

The sound of defeat in her voice broke his heart. “Yes.”

Fortunately she didn’t argue, getting out of bed quickly, her pale hair and nightdress at least giving him some chance of seeing her, even if his dark clothes would inevitably, thankfully, keep _his_ identity hidden. Then again, he remembered her reaction when they had first met again as adults. She had hardly recognised him then, even knowing who he was, so it was perhaps inevitable that anything she could now see would go unrecognised. Why would she even suspect it to be him? As far as she was concerned he was just the thirteen year old boy who lived next door.

“Who are you?” she asked and he shook his head as he fought for a suitable answer.

“A friend. We need to go. Get yourself through the dark door and warn Jon.”

“Jon?”

This time he couldn’t help a small laugh escaping, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting home.

“No time, Dany,” he said without thinking, moving her closer to the door, trying hard not to be distracted by how much smaller she was. How this was actually his wife and how very, very odd the whole situation felt. And there were the sounds again. “Wait ...” The enemy were close. Far _too_ close. Right on the other side of this door in fact. “Shit.”

Finally Jon was able to put everything else to one side and focus on what was important, drawing Longclaw as he pulled the young girl close against his side, briefly glancing down to see her gaze drift to his right hand. She would remember this. She _had_ remembered this. So far, so good.

Taking a deep breath he pulled the door opened and stepped out, Dany held close against his side, just as they had discussed. The living room appeared a little lighter now, a hint of dawn through the high windows making everything more visible. Jon’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness now anyway, quickly taking note of three Baratheon soldiers who turned towards them on hearing the door open.

“Shana!” Dany cried, suddenly wriggling in his grasp as she recognised one of the victims. Jon stopped her from moving forward and into danger - easy enough seeing how much smaller she was here - pushing her behind him as he raised Longclaw, his mind already several steps ahead as he planned the attack. Only three soldiers? From the way she had described it, he had expected rather more resistance than this.

It had been a while since he’d been involved in a proper fight as, ever since taking back Winterfell, it had only really been about training and sparring. Something always happened to Jon at times like this though. A strange calm wrapped around a surge of blood in his veins. Years of training and fighting far more vicious killers than these soft, southerners, settling into his bones and preparing him for battle.

The first soldier was dead before he had even realised it himself. The second on the defensive just as soon as Jon had spun backwards towards him. ‘ _So slow!’_ The third was now staring at him wide-eyed and he smirked, twirling his sword, daring him to engage. He glanced up very briefly to check on young Dany - standing near her bedroom, hands over her mouth - and quickly moved closer to the Pentos Door, tempting the final soldier to focus on him and not her.

The attack when it finally came was slow and clumsy and Jon skipped away, rolling his eyes as he realised that she still hadn’t moved. Hadn’t even _tried_ to escape this room.

“Now, Daenerys,” he called to her. “Head quickly through the door to Jon. It’s the only way out for you now.” How very odd to talk of himself in that way.

Finally she moved and he was then able to give his full attention to this third, slightly more competent soldier, although he really was only keeping the man occupied until he was certain she had had time to escape.

“Two more coming.” Dany’s voice echoed from outside the door, her gaze flicking between Jon and the Dragonstone end of the corridor.

“Run,” he shouted at her, moving slightly so he was able to see her dart northwards, quickly finishing off the final Baratheon soldier as he did so.

“Targaryen scum!”

Another voice sounded from the corridor and Jon ran towards it just in time to see the Dragon Door close, before taking a step backwards as he decided on his next course of action. Two Lannister soldiers came into view then, dashing towards the Door, pushing and pulling at the ring and cursing as it flatly refused to budge. Then one glanced right and saw him - pausing for a moment as he tried to determined which side he was on.

Jon simply lifted Longclaw and strode towards them, their confusion at not being able to reach their prey making them an even easier kill.

“That’s what you get for insulting our House and trying to kill my wife,” Jon growled as he finished the last one off. He kicked them away from the Door, fully intending to return home, but then paused as the sound of fighting further up the corridor distracted him - a sudden, mad idea taking hold.

His Targaryen brother and sister were in the next suite. Could he save them too? Bran may have thought it impossible to change the past, but he had been talking about visions, not actually visiting the place in question. Decision made, Jon started to move south, suddenly determined, whilst the pull from the Door yanked at him, telling him off for attempting such a thing. He could go into this suite, fight and kill a few more soldiers, rescue Rhaenys and Aegon and then …

And then what?

His siblings weren't Dragons and so would be unable to escape through the Door and Jon knew from Dany that the whole castle had been occupied and searched for days after this. One small girl had managed to hide here - even had the ability to step through to Winterfell again if things got really bad - but three of them? As he reached the door of the other suite Jon began to fear he was too late anyway, loud screams turning suddenly to worrying silence, the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the corridor from both here and from the southern entrance to this wing.

He had to go back. He knew Dany was safe and had survived this but … what about him? What if he got killed now? Jon was surprised to realise that he hadn’t given _his_ fate any thought until that moment, only now realising he knew nothing of what had happened here immediately after Dany had escaped to Winterfell. Although ... he was still due to visit Rhaegar at some point in the future, wasn’t he? Wasn't that event now fixed as Bran suspected?

The Door again tugged at him, just as a shout went up and another group of soldiers approached his position. An exceptionally tall Lannister soldier with a long scar down the length of his face smiled gleefully as he charged and Jon held up his sword, calculating. ‘ _Too many. Not worth it.’_ Turning quickly, he sprinted north towards the Winterfell Door, cursing as a knife zipped past his head and hammered into the wood next to his ear.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he turned the ring and pushed open the Door. “I tried.”

He dropped onto his knees on the flagstones in the Winterfell corridor before quickly staggered up, catching one brief glance of some very shocked looking soldiers before pushing the Door closed and allowing the latch to drop. Then the adrenaline from the fight left him all in one go and he quickly returned to the floor as the exhaustion closed in.

Jon stayed there for some time, breathing heavily and blinking back tears, as he tried not to think too hard about Rhaenys and Aegon and whether he could have saved them if he had done something differently. When he eventually managed to open his eyes, his gaze fell on the end of a tiny scroll sticking out from the edge of the Door and he reached for it, finally managing to smile as he remembered his and Dany’s old habit of leaving each other notes in this way.

“Your Grace?”

This time it was Maester Wolkan rushing over to him, concerned to see his king kneeling on the floor at the end of the corridor. Jon looked over his shoulder and realised that Bran was also here in his wheeled chair.

“What time is it?” he asked, groggily.

“Morning? Probably?” Bran replied. “It’s been a busy night.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Your Grace. Are you unwell?”

“I’m fine, Wolkan, just a bit tired. Didn’t sleep much. He looked at Bran and frowned. “Neither did you by the look of it.”

“No. I went to the tree as promised. I had another vision.”

“And?” Jon glanced nervously at the maester, but Bran didn’t seem concerned about the man’s presence here.

“The Night King is heading towards Castle Black.”

“Are you sure? Do you know why?”

“That is where the battle will be.”

Jon stood up shakily and rubbed his face, trying to focus. “The Night King is heading towards Castle Black because _he_ saw that was where the battle would happen, or you’re telling me this because _you’ve_ seen him going there?”

“Either? Both?” Bran shrugged. “Circles and tapestries, as I said before.”

Jon groaned. “I’d better try and meet up with Daenerys then.” He unfurled the scroll and quickly read it. “A flight to Eastwatch by the looks of it.”

~o~0~o~

**Eastwatch**

“Jon! What news?” Tormund was waiting for him this time, striding forward to grab him into the usual bear hug that almost lifted him off his feet.

“My brother thinks they’re heading to Castle Black now.”

Tormund rolled his eyes. “Icy fuckers can’t make up their minds.”

Jon chuckled. “They’ve been getting mixed messages it seems.” He looked up. “And I got a scroll telling me the queen was here?”

“Yes, she flew up a little while ago with a couple of southern knights she reckoned would be of use. Pfft! You were right when you made a distinction between our south and your south. Soft and slow the lot of them.”

Jon remembered his recent fight - ten years ago - and nodded his agreement. “Aye, that they are. We build them tough in the north and that’s just during a normal winter.”

“True enough. Anyway, your beautiful wife is warming your bed for you, although I wouldn’t get your hopes up. Poor girl looked exhausted.” He smirked. “Is that your fault?”

Jon barked out a laugh. Considering what he suspected of her current condition then it likely was. “I think it’s just all the dashing around she’s had to do,” he replied instead. “But there are things about this Castle Black issue that I urgently need to discuss with her.”

He headed to their usual room here, bolting the door behind him and moving over to the bed. Shaking his head at the strange coincidence of yet again coming over to gently wake her up.

“Dany?”

“Jon?” she mumbled sleepily before very suddenly sitting upright and glaring at him.

The look on her face had him instantly pulling back. “What?” Then she leant forward and hit him hard on the arm. “Ow, Dany. What was that for?”

“No secrets between us, you said. No lies.” She hit him again. “I really am _very_ angry with you right now.”

“Dany?” he pleaded. “What did I do?”

“You thought I might be pregnant?”

“Ah, yes?”

“When you knew for a fact that I was.”

He winced. “Well, I would say, ‘for a fact’, exactly.” She hit him again. “Ow, stop that.”

“Four months into the future. I was pregnant when I visited you, wasn’t I?”

“Very,” he replied automatically before quickly grabbing her wrists to prevent another hit, unable to hide his smile. “So wonderfully curvy and even more beautiful than usual.”

“Jon ...” This time her voice was quiet, her anger starting to dissolve.

He leant forward to kiss her fingers. “Congratulations, my love.”

For a moments she copied the move, head bowed, tears in her eyes, before quickly snatching her hands away from him. “No! None of that. All that concern, all those gentle kisses and rubs of my stomach. How could you not say anything?”

“I _did_ say something I seem to remember.” She shook her head. “Dany, I know we need to talk about this but we also have to discuss the Night King and Bran’s latest vision.” He sighed. “And the Door.”

“Yes, I have news about that too.” She glared at him. “But I can’t focus on any of those things in my current state. I need to get rid of this anger.”

Jon tried to hide his grin. “You’d better punish me then. As long as it’s not slapping me on the arm some more.”

“Oh, I can think of some _far_ more interesting places to hit you, Jon. Get yourself out of those clothes and lie down on the bed.”

He raised an eyebrow. “As my queen commands.”

“And hand me your sword belt.”

She was smirking at him now and he very slowly unbuckled it and nervously handed it over.

“And, what exactly do you intend to do with that?”

She ran the leather through her hands, licking her lips, the look on her face now positively sly.

“Lie naked on the bed with that beautiful arse in the air, Jon and I shall show you.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about leaving it there! 
> 
> I really had no idea when I was writing chapter 4 that it would take another  **24** chapters until we saw Jon's side of the Baratheon attack. Wow! Honestly though it's always felt like this story dictating things rather than me having very much control. It's always so much fun writing the other side of these various time travel visits. 
> 
> And yes, that's your cue to nip back and have a little re-read! 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I skipped the smut but there's just so much that needs to get placed here ready for the end of Act 5. I think you'll find there's more than enough other stuff here to keep you interested.
> 
> So, yes, there are a bunch of set-up plots, teasers and questions in this chapter. I'd love to hear your questions and speculations about it all.

**Jon XXIX**

**Eastwatch**

“How are you feeling now?” Jon asked her as he rolled over to his side of the bed.

Dany wriggled in delight and sighed. “Much better.”

“And have you forgiven me yet?”

She huffed. “You’re going to have to work quite a bit harder before _that_ happens.”

“Only I’m not sure our child should have a husband beater for a mother.”

She laughed. “You enjoyed it, Jon. Admit it.”

“I _always_ enjoy being naked with you, my love, even when I am being punished. You may not have forgiven me yet but are you at least feeling more like talking through those other issues I mentioned?”

“Yes, of course.” Despite her assertion, Dany snuggled up against his shoulder as usual and Jon smiled, knowing full well that most of her anger towards him was an act.

“So the main news is from Bran,” he began. “He got another vision. Apparently the battle is now going to happen at Castle Black.”

She groaned. “You’re telling me we’ve had all our best troops travel here only to now have to send them back west?”

“Probably? Certainly we should try to move _some_ of them to Castle Black as soon as possible.” He sighed. “I also think I’ll need to go over there soon, just to check how things stand.”

“And then we end up changing the future again and everyone has to come scurrying back to Eastwatch?”

“We always knew this might happened, Dany. I talked before about the possibility of him splitting up his army and spreading them along the Wall. Remember how concerned I was about that before we had all your troops travel up here?”

“Yes.” She sighed. “It makes me nervous to suggest it but, at some point, we really do need to fly up to look for his army and check this.”

“If we go high like last time, then it’s probably worth the risk, aye.”

There was a long pause and Jon wondered for a moment if she’d fallen asleep.

“I stepped back in time again,” she whispered.

He sighed, biting back his immediate reaction to tell her off for it. “When?”

“Castle Black about seven years ago.”

He frowned, calculating. “Seven?”

“Yes, I thought I was visiting Uncle Aemon and … well I was only … only you were there too.”

“What? I don’t … I would have remembered that.”

“Well, you were at the castle but we didn’t see each other.”

“Oh, right.”

“But I heard you. You interrupted our conversation by knocking on the door. Something about your hand hurting?”

Jon laughed, pulling away from her slightly so he could place his right hand in hers, reminding her of the scars he still had there. “Burnt my hand destroying my first wight. Maester Aemon was helping it to heal.”

“Oh, yes, I remember you saying. That was how you got your sword, wasn't it? For saving your Lord Commander’s life?”

“Aye.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t mind trying to visit him myself. It would be so good to talk to him again knowing what I do now.”

“But he knew, Jon. Aemon knew you were Rhaegar’s son. He could feel the pull just as soon as you first arrived at Castle Black.”

“I wonder that I didn’t noticed it myself although … I suppose I _did_ feel a connection now I think back on it. Was probably just too young and caught up in my own misery to pay it much mind.”

“Well there’s no reason why you can’t try it the next time you’re on Dragonstone,” she said. “As for my visit. We talked a bit about Rhaegar, and Aemon confirmed some of the stuff my brother told you about being obsessed by prophecy and time travel and how he was convinced he would have three children who would all be Dragons.”

“There is just so much I don’t understand about that, Dany,” he admitted. “And about me being named Aegon and all of this strange, interwoven time travel. And it’s just so tiring too, although definitely so much easier on a full stomach.”

“Yes, I noticed that.”

“When I arrived at Winterfell I suddenly felt so hungry,” he told her then. “I’m not sure I’ve ever eaten so much at one sitting before.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “Didn’t think much of it until I found myself in front of the Door and itching to walk through.”

She lifted her head a little. “You travelled back too? We do keep making these trips around the same time.”

“Aye and, just before I stepped through, I realised I was still wearing my black riding gear and had Longclaw at my hip.”

“You didn’t!” She sat up and abruptly and he grinned at her. “You did. You went back to the Baratheon attack?”

He nodded. “Let me tell you all about it while it’s fresh in my mind and you can see how much of it matches your own memories.”

~o~0~o~

They both left their room in time for the evening meal in the small, dark hall here in Eastwatch, sitting with Tormund and putting up with his usual bawdy guesses about what the pair of them had been up to that afternoon. Unfortunately the wildling had seen Dany smirk at one point - obviously amused by the fact that his suggestions were positively tame compared to what had actually happened - and then he just kept pushing even harder despite, or probably because, Jon was becoming more and more uncomfortable by the conversation.

Thankfully he was saved by the arrival of Beric, Thoros and Sandor, all three of whom very deliberately came over to sit at the same table but remaining silent for quite some time.

“Go on,” Beric urged the Hound who glowered for at the man before responding.

“Got another vision,” he muttered eventually. “No idea why this bloody Lord of Light keeps picking on me but apparently I’m getting clearer ones than even this priest here.”

Thoros chuckled. “We all have our gifts. It seems mine is being an instrument to bring Beric back.”

“And your vision?” Dany asked Sandor.

“The dead army attacking a castle like this one but bigger. Got a box contraption to get you up the top of the wall. Better than all the bloody stairs here, I’d say.”

“Sounds like Castle Black,” Jon said.

“If you say so. Anyway, they were attacking the gate with these strange dead creatures and men that made my brother look small and there was a dragon in a blizzard, ice spears and dark blades and ...” He shook his head. “It was all very confusing.”

“Just one dragon?” Dany asked. “No more than that?”

He shrugged. “Looked like it. Hard to say for sure.”

Jon sighed. “I suppose that rather confirms Bran’s thoughts on the battle’s location?”

“As much as it is possible to,” Dany agreed. “Looks like we’re off again then? I’d better go down to Dragonstone and pick up Grey Worm and Davos. You’ll be going to Castle Black, I assume?”

He nodded. “Yes, I’d better make sure they’re prepared for this probable attack.” He turned to Tormund. “Perhaps these three, the two the queen brought up from the south should make their west, along with a few others from here? Daenerys can always fly anyone else we urgently need over there once we’ve got them in our sights, but we better keep a decent number of soldiers over here, just in case it’s a misdirection.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” the wildling replied. “And remember to Include me on that list if the fight _is_ to happen at Castle Black. Save me one of those wight-killing swords as well if you can.”

“Of course,” Jon said, standing and holding a hand out to Dany. “We really had better be going now but we promise we’ll be back in touch very soon.”

~o~0~o~

**Castle Black**

Whilst Dany flew Drogon south, Jon took Rhaegal west to Castle Black – a relatively short and easy journey compared to hers, despite the horrendous weather he had to fly through.

“What’s going on?” Edd asked him almost as soon as in through the gates. “I’m starting to get all these obscure messages about an attack coming this way?”

“Possibly. Probably.” Jon sighed. “The Night King has disappeared from Eastwatch and appears to be moving in this direction. We’ve been told of a few visions which imply the fight will be here now.”

“Visions?”

He rolled his eyes. “Me and strange magic. You know how it is?”

Edd scoffed. “Unfortunately, yes. Well, I’m not going to complain at you being here right now, Jon. I’m having a nightmare trying to get all these fighters to work together and there are more arriving every day. Brothers, wildlings, prisoners, southern soldiers and random northerners keen to do their bit. I’m now beginning to get an idea of what Mance had to deal with. So many different ideas and beliefs. It's driving me to distraction.”

“And what makes you think I can do any better?” Jon asked.

He rolled his eyes. “Stop trying to be modest, you know that doesn’t work on me. I’ve seen what you’re capable of when things get tough. So just get yourself down to that training yard and whip them all into shape for me, would you?”

Jon gave him a pointed look. “Is that an order, Lord Commander?”

Edd scoffed. “You may be king now but you’re in _my_ castle and it was you who threw this damn cloak at me if you recall. I can’t be Lord Commander and train this lot too. Use your status, your charm or your pretty looks, whatever it takes, and see if you can get them to all work together.”

Jon was trying hard not to laugh. It was a nice change to be treated so casually. “I shall do my best.”

His old friend had not been exaggerating. Jon watched with growing despair as an elderly brother attempted to direct the training in the yard, only to be constantly over-ruled by a couple of southern soldiers who seemed to think their method of training was far superior to his. As loathed as he was to step in and be yet another know-it-all taking away the Ranger's authority, Edd had given him a job and Jon was quite determined to help. So, unable to resist any longer, he quickly strode forwards, snapping at the younger men and telling them to mind their place.

“I was a commander in the Tarly army,” the loudest soldier said, lifting his chin proudly. “And this is most definitely _not_ the way you prepare for a fight.”

“You were attacking living soldiers down there, not the dead,” Jon retorted, “so you would do well to learn from those of us who have actually dealt with this threat already.”

The man looked him up and down disdainfully. “And who are _you_ to tell _me_ what to do?”

There were a few muffled gasps and a couple of sniggers from those who knew the answer to that already, but the man had paled even before he registered their response, apparently seeing something in Jon’s expression which made him quickly reconsider.

“I'm Jon Snow,” he said in the quiet voice he now knew quickly gained people’s attention. “Former Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, King in the North and husband to Queen Daenerys Targaryen.”

“That’s … that’s you?”

“It is. Now, how about you show me what you can do?”

Jon picked up a fallen training sword from the ground and twirled it, smirking. The soldier in front of him had apparently only taken note of his plain clothes and modest height initially, but it seemed Jon’s reputation had proceeded him and the man now looked suitably terrified. ‘ _Good!’_

The young king had his opponent on his back in the snow a few heartbeats later, dragging him to his feet and pairing him off with a young wildling before heading off to find another couple of heads to knock together. He continued this way for a while, not dismissing the official commander here, simply acting as the old man’s second, prowling the space, giving friendly advice or sharp reprimands whenever they were required.

Another loud shout from the edge of the training ground had him heading in that direction with a small growl, this time to witness a large brother bearing down on a small recruit who appeared to be giving as good as he got.

“I _can_ fight. You can’t stop me.”

“What’s going on here?” Jon asked.

“It’s a girl,” the brother said, only half glancing up at Jon. “And a bastard girl at that. She can’t fight ...” He then realised who he was addressing. “Ah … Your Grace.”

The small recruit turned around, her eyes widening as she also appeared to recognise him. She was actually a women, close to his own age he guessed, and reminding him instantly of Arya. Her shock was short lived though as she quickly recovered her composure to glare at him.

“I can fight,” she repeated, lifting her chin, her hand fingering the hilt of a sword at her belt. “Let me prove it.”

“This is the King in the North, child. Have some respect.”

She scoffed. “I know that well enough and I also know that _he_ would give a northern girl a chance to prove herself just as my father did.”

“You’re a Snow?” he asked, trying to work out who else she was reminding him of.

“Aye.” She lifted her chin even higher. “Are _y_ _ou_ going to hold that against me … Your Grace?”

He caught the glint in her eye and smirked. “Hardly. Fine then.” He threw the training sword he was holding over to her and she caught it easily, her relaxed stance making him instantly suspect she was as good as she had implied. “Show me what you can do. I’m not going to turn away an able fighter if that is indeed what you are.”

~o~0~o~

**Dany XXIX**

**Dragonstone**

“How are you?” Jon asked Dany the moment he stepped over the threshold that evening. “How is it all going?”

“I’m fine,” she replied. “Tired. I had a long talk with Gendry the blacksmith earlier and he had some interesting thoughts on the various weapons we have here.”

“Oh?”

“He thinks those spikes could be carried in a sack on Drogon and dropped down on top of the White Walkers.”

Jon groaned. “Of course. So obvious. Just as we did at Castle Black with barrels full of nails.”

She nodded. “But he agreed with you about the problem with dragon armour. The time and effort needed to make it, along with its weight, would rather negate the dragons’ speed and manoeuvrability. Although he is adapting some armour for me.”

“As long as it’s fairly light, I suppose.”

“He said it won’t require much to repel arrows from the height I’ll be flying at.” She sighed. “I suppose I should fly up to Castle Black tomorrow with him, Davos and Grey Worm and then you can discuss all of this with him?”

“Why not give yourself a few days,” Jon suggested. “There’s no sign of the Night King here at the moment, after all, and the Door means I can let you know quickly if you’re needed.”

She frowned, considering. “A compromise, perhaps? I’ll come up the day after tomorrow. That’ll give me a short break, but I’d really rather not stay away for too long.”

“Fair enough but please try to take it easy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Stop it. Stop fussing.”

He grinned and held out his arms to her. “Sorry, Love. I’m tired too. Been a nightmare trying to get all these fighters to work together and get the defences ready.”

“I’m sure if anyone can manage that, it’s you.”

He frowned. “Edd said much the same but he also reminded me of what Mance managed to achieve. It’s a real challenge to get all these different types of people to appreciate the strengths that other people can bring to this fight.”

“Tell me more,” she said, “but in bed.”

He laughed, leading her next door. “Had a woman turn up to fight too.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “She was very good. A small, ferocious, dark-haired northerner.” He grinned broadly making Dany feel briefly, surprisingly jealous. “Made me think it might be worth flying down to Winterfell and bring Brienne up here now too. She has a Valyrian steel sword of her own, after all.”

“That’s a good idea, if Sansa is happy to spare her.” She nodded. “I think you’re right. I’ll give myself one day to rest and can then make a start on ferrying anyone up to Castle Black who won’t be able to make it on time on their own.”

“Aye. Do you know if Arya headed to Camptown?”

Dany shook her head. “Not as far as I know. She left a message saying she had caught a boat back up to White Harbor.” She saw Jon frown. “I’m sure she’s fine. You know very well she can take care of herself.”

“I do. It’s not that.”

“What then?”

“I just had the feeling that she had wanted to go to King’s Landing and ...” He shook his head. “I don’t suppose it’s important. It might even help. I had just started to think perhaps we had underestimated her and that her coming south wasn’t all about her experiencing a dragon ride.”

Dany nodded, suddenly understanding. “You think she had been planning on heading for Camptown all along?” Jon shrugged. “Do you want me to send a few messages out?”

“No, she’s a grown woman now with some quite unique skills. I admit that I’m a little worried but I know she can take care of herself. Come here, my love. Things are set to get very busy now. Let me take you to bed whilst we both still have the time and energy for it.”

~o~0~o~

Missandei had to come and wake her the following morning and Dany tried and failed to keep a small breakfast down before setting up a meeting and rearranging the flight north for the following day. She had a few raven messages sent too, just so she could feel a little less guilty about the delay, before heading back down to the old wing. She had no plans to step through anywhere today, instead using the place as a sanctuary – her original excuse for spending time there now given legitimacy.

She headed straight to bed just as soon as she had arrived, sleeping deeply and waking up some time in the afternoon to find her stomach had settled somewhat. Pleased, she ate a small portion of food before exploring a little. First she briefly checked the Castle Black door to confirm that her husband was still there and then walked around the rest of the wing, frustrated that there was no way of confirming any of her guesses about where these Doors would lead without physically having her or Jon travel to the castles in question.

Not unless she could confirm it some other way.

“Targaryens,” she muttered as she paced. “Where would they be living in the past? King’s Landing and here in Dragonstone, obviously but also ...” She remembered Aemon’s recent comment about Rhaegar’s obsessions and nodded. “Summerhall.”

She stepped across the corridor into the suite opposite and into the room that housed the Casterly Rock Door. There were two Doors here that faced south-west - one in this room and another next door - although this one was probably too westerly to be Summerhall. She placed her palm on it anyway, knowing her ability was getting stronger by the day and thinking now that perhaps she could sense a few faint threads. Perhaps Rhaegar? Perhaps … Jon?” She shook her head, uncertain, moving through the adjoining door and placing her hand on the south-westerly one in that room, instantly feeling a number of much stronger and clearer threads.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I can sense … something. Someone.”

It had to be Rhaegar, surely? Dany closed her eyes, moving her head closer, trying to focus on her memory of him and his kind, handsome face. He had always looked at her with such love and quiet pride but also … confusion as if here was something about her that he couldn’t quite figure out.

A single thread glowed suddenly bright and hot and she grabbed at it, pushing the Door open and stepping through.

~o~0~o~

**Summerhall**

Dany opened the door to a sudden brightness, shielding her eyes as she was briefly blinded after the gloom of the Dragonstone chamber. She pushed herself through the weight of time, blinking as her vision returned and then looking around to note fire-blackened stone walls surrounding her on all four sides, with ragged holes where the doors and windows once were and nothing but sky above her instead of a roof.

She had known Summerhall was a ruin, of course, but the view shocked her nonetheless, the memories of the tales Ser Barristan had told suddenly returning to her in a rush.

A sound and sudden movement had her turn quickly, looking up towards the largest of the holes which was obviously a ruined doorway at the top of a small flight of stone steps. A figure stood there in silhouette, the brightness behind making his features impossible to determined, although Dany knew from the pull exactly who she was sensing.

“Hello, Rhaegar,” she said, calmly.

Her brother moved slowly down the stairs until the dark, stone walls cast enough shadow around him for Dany to be able to see clearly and confirm her guess. She smiled brightly, recognising him easily even after all these years, trying hard to keep her emotions under control. He would be younger here than when she had last seen him, she realised. Possibly even younger than she was now?

Rhaegar did not appear to recognise her though, simply staring at her for a while, his head tipped as he studying her. “You’re a Dragon?” he asked her. “From the future?”

“I am.”

She had been so focused on discovering the location of this Door that she hadn’t given herself time to think about what she was going to say to her brother if the trip had actually worked. Other than warning him, of course. She _had_ to warn him.

He had appeared to have got over his shock now, smiling brightly at her. “You can’t be Rhaenys with that hair colour so … you must be my third child. You must be Visenya.”

Dany paused, suddenly thrown by the unexpected name and her brother’s bright-eyed certainty. “No,” she replied, “I’m not, but there are things I urgently need to tell you. Need to warn you about.”

“But that can’t be right?” he pushed. “I was told I would have three children. I have already met my son as an adult. He had dark hair but I know he’s a Dragon too.”

“Well yes, that’s true, but what you really need to know is ...”

This was far harder than she had expected. Her brother obviously had questions of his own and the pull from the Door was already dragging at her, distracting her and quickly making her lose her train of thought. On top of that her nausea was resurfacing and Dany knew she wouldn’t be able to stay here for very much longer.

Rhaegar had noticed that she was struggling and approached, a hand on her elbow as he moving her gently closer to the Door in order to help with the symptoms. “What do you need to warn me about?” he asked her kindly.

“It’s all about to fall apart,” she said, recalling her recent conversation with Aemon. “There’s to be a rebellion. Your father cannot be trusted and neither can Tywin Lannister. You need to get _all_ of your family to Dragonstone and then you need to stay there and protect us.” She didn’t care what Bran had said. She and Jon had already managed to change the future so, perhaps by telling her brother this she could change the past for the better too. If she could only persuade Rhaegar to stay on the island then maybe he wouldn’t have to die at the Trident.

“My father would not harm his family,” her brother insisted. “No matter what.”

“It is more complicated than that. You see-”

“-you said ‘yes’ earlier,” he interrupted, “but were you talking about Aegon being a Dragon or about my having three children?”

She shook her head, confused. “Aegon wasn’t … I mean ...” According to Bran, Jon’s real name _was_ Aegon. Which made no sense, of course. She took a deep breath and tried to explain. “Only one of your children is a true Dragon. The one you met with dark hair. He and I are the only ones left but his na-.”

“-but there _must_ be three!” he interrupted again, and Dany quickly became confused again. Was Rhaegar talking about his children or Dragons now?

“You … you do have three children,” she said, deciding she could tell him that much. “And, as things stand, your line will survive. I am married to the other Dragon, the one you’ve already met and …” She placed a hand on her stomach. “I am pregnant with his child.”

Rhaegar’s smile was now brighter than she ever remembered. “My grandchild?” he gasped, his gaze briefly flicking downwards.

“Yes,” Dany replied, still not fully understanding Rhaegar’s various, strange questions. “But I grew up on Dragonstone with the rest of your family. You told us that you learnt worrying things about Aerys and Tywin and realised Elia and your children would be in grave danger in King’s Landing. You made sure they would remain on Dragonstone but ...”

He held up a hand, smiling gently at her. “Thank you. I will be able to check this now, I think. I can make my own visits and consult with others that I trust. I can see that this is tiring you and you really should not stay here too long.”

“But I need to warn you,” she pushed. “ _You_ must stay with us on Dragonstone. You have to stay with your family and find as many soldiers and ships as possible to guard us. And there’s a storm … a huge one when I was born. The ships will be in danger and ...”

“I will do these things, Visenya, I promise-”

“-I’m not-”

“-but you must answer one more question for me about Aegon-”

“-well, you see ...” She groaned. How could she explain the confusion over Jon's name when she didn’t even understand it herself.

“The dark haired young man who visited me said he was my son.”

“He is, but ...”

“He’s not Aegon?”

“Well, it's confusing but ...” She shook her head as she felt another insistent tug and her stomach rolled. “Oh!”

“You should go. Hopefully we can meet and talk again?”

She nodded. “I hope so but you _have_ to remember what I said. You must stay on Dragonstone with us. No matter what else happens. There are just so few of us left now and it all went so badly wrong and ...” She blinked away tears as the tug got stronger still.

“Go,” Rhaegar urged. “You do not want to be thrown back in your condition. it’s better you walk through by yourself.”

Dany nodded and turned, knowing he was right but frustrated that they had managed to exchange so little useful information.

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, there's the summary. 'Rhaegar receives a warning and gets his family to relative safety'. Some of you had already guessed that it would be Dany. 
> 
> A number of people have wondering at Rhaegar's confusion during these brief visits but it's all about the weird timeline here where he's meeting them before his youngest children or Dany are born. Once you realise that it's all backwards for Rhaegar, you start to understand his confusion a little more. (And THIS was one of the main things tying me up in knots during the planning.) Think River Song and The Doctor's timelines for those of you who watch Dr Who.
> 
> Only just remembered that I wanted an updated map on here but the only other scan I have gives away one last spoiler. I hastily made up a new one but didn't have the time to get my temperamental scanner to cooperate so just took a photo on my phone. I'll try to replace it with a scan later.
> 
> As I said at the start, I'm looking forward to hearing your theories, speculations and answering any questions you might have about this chapter. There's a lot being set up here.


	30. Chapter 30

**Dany XXX**

**Dragonstone**

Dany opened her eyes to the darkness of her childhood bedroom, briefly disorientated and, for a moment, it felt similar to when she had been young and had often thought her visits to Jon were a dream.

She sat up slowly, wondering if her stomach would allow her to eat something, feeling suddenly delicate and emotional and realising that she was grieving again, in a way. She had had a chance to save her brother and now fully understood what Jon had described about his own sudden desire to rescue Rhaenys and Aegon. She groaned as she recalled scattered bits of her confused conversation with Rhaegar and forced herself over to her desk in order to jot a few things down, slowly nibbling a little food as she did so. She continued to make notes until her eyes felt too heavy to continue and she was forced to return to bed.

The next time she awoke, Missandei was by her side, fussing over her as usual and asking if the queen needed to postpone the trip north for another day. Dany refused the offer, knowing she had slept well, had kept down her night-time supper and early morning snack and would soon start feeling brighter. So, she allowed her friend to assist her as she tried to put all thoughts of time travel and Rhaegar to one side and focus instead on the upcoming flight north and returning to her husband, if only for a little while.

~o~0~o~

**Castle Black, Winterfell & Eastwatch**

Dany flew up to Castle Black with Davos, Grey Worm and Gendry, knowing this would be a brief visit before she needed to head off again. She introduced Gendry to Jon and then left them to it, a hand on her husband’s arm to tell him she needed to rest for a while before she could think about travelling south again. Her husband seemed to understand her silent plea, although his worried gaze followed her as he started to talk to the young blacksmith about their fathers - Eddard and Robert – who had always been such good friends.

He joined her in their chambers soon after, offering her a little stew, which was nowhere near as pleasant as Missandei’s creation but a far better option than the other food on offer here. Mindful of the need to fly off again soon, Dany asked for a quick tour of the castle, noting with interest how much busier it was here now that everyone was preparing for the assumed attack.

She decided to head to Winterfell next, flying slightly north and far higher than usual, searching for a hint of icy cloud to get some idea of the Night King’s location and not at all reassured by what she saw. Weighing her options, she continued with her plan, flying quickly south, explaining what was happening to the Starks and asking if a few brave swords would travel back north with her on Drogon. As Jon had hoped, Brienne was quick to volunteer, although not without some concern about her oath to Sansa.

“You will be protecting me and Arya and the whole realm by doing this,” the Lady of Winterfell reassured her. “Go where your sword will be of use.”

“And, in this case, that particular sword really _will_ be useful,” Dany told her, nodding down at Oathkeeper at the tall woman’s hip.

Her squire, Podrick also wished to come, insisting he could be helpful up there, even if it was only to squire and assist the true fighters. However, in the end Brienne over-ruled him, complimenting him in her own, brusque manner by ordering him to protect Lady Sansa in her stead, her command accompanied by a bunch of threats about what she would do to him on her return if he failed at this task. Dany tried hard to hide a smile, quickly realising that she meant nothing of the sort and highly amused by the pair’s unique relationship.

After some parting words to her sister and brother by law, Dany left the castle with Brienne and two other soldiers and headed for Drogon, quietly reassuring her passengers that her dragon was now used to ferrying random people north and south and would do them no harm. Ghost suddenly appeared then, heading purposefully over to Dany in a way that had everyone gasping and she rolled her eyes as the direwolf whimpered and searched for attention before very unsubtly attempting to nuzzle at her stomach. She grabbed and lifted his head to stare into his eyes, aware that the wolf was bonded to Jon in such a way that he would know much of what her husband did and was probably sharing his recent over-protective streak too.

“I’m fine and, no, you can’t come with me. I’ll look after Jon and he’ll look after me. The pack survives, yes?”

Ghost whimpered again but seemed to get the message, this time nuzzling her neck before turning around and leaving.

“Can you imagine it?” she said to her stunned companions. “Landing at Castle Black with a direwolf on top of a dragon?”

They all laughed nervously, and Dany hoped that they wouldn’t think anything else was out of the ordinary, distracting them further by explaining the best way to climb up onto Drogon.

When she had left Castle Black the previous day she had had to pointedly fly north of the Wall in order to discovered the icy cloud that heralded the Night King’s army but, unfortunately, there was absolutely no need to do so now. It was quite obvious, even before the castle came into view, a thick mist which some might believe to be a severe storm but, during this particular winter, Dany understood to be something very much worse.

On landing she sought her husband out, finding him in a meeting with the Lord Commander and telling them both what she had seen.

“How long until they get here?” Edd asked her.

“A couple of days, perhaps?” she said. “Not much more. Assuming of course that they don’t just stare at us and then wander back off to another castle again.”

Jon groaned. “That would be a good tactic. Constantly threatening an attack and not following through until we got bored and dropped our guard.”

She nodded. “It’s something to bear in mind, certainly.”

Day and night had little meaning up here nowadays but they kept to what would be considered normal hours the best they were able, which meant it was most definitely time for sleep. As the place was extra busy now, Dany and Jon decided to share Aemon’s old room, both far too tired and on edge to contemplate anything other than curling up in each other’s arms fully clothed.

She had thought to share news of her visit to Rhaegar with her husband but feared the discussion might distract them both from the issue at hand and had fallen asleep before she had fully arrived at a decision anyway. The couple woke briefly sometime during the night to exchange a few kisses and some thoughts about the upcoming conflict but, by the time Dany opened her eyes the following morning, Jon had already left. The young queen got up as quickly as she was able - considering her continued fragile state - knowing she still had a few more flights to make before the Night King and his army arrived at Castle Black and heading out to Drogon just as soon as she felt well enough.

~o~0~o~

Dany had seen the small group of five travelling west on horses towards Castle Black as she flew towards Eastwatch. By the time she returned with Tormund and a few others the following afternoon, the group were still a few days away and she guessed that they were going to need her help if they were to make it to Castle Black in time. She arrived back to the terrifying sight of the dead army standing just a little way back from the gate - very much as they had in Eastwatch - and, without waiting wasting time to consult with anyone, she dropped the first group off and instantly few back east to collect Jaime, Sandor and the others, ferrying them forwards so they could be of use to their carefully organised plan. It would also help the fighters to save a little of their strength for the battle itself rather than rushing in, out of breath, at the very last moment.

When Dany returned for the final time it was to see the dead army now even closer, with numerous small, black dots milling around on top of the Wall and in the castle’s courtyard. She quickly realised, with horror, that there were dead Giants and mammoths now moving forward to attack the gate and she acted without thinking, quickly landing to drop off her passengers, ordering Rhaegal and Viserion to remain safe, south of the Wall, and then lifting back up on Drogon so she could survey the scene properly.

And where was Jon? The plan had been for the pair of them to work in tandem on two dragons to attack the wights and expose the White Walkers to the Valyrian fighters; one swooping down to fire and distract before moving out of harm’s way and allowing the other to take over. Unfortunately, her husband was nowhere to be seen and, what with his absence and the other two dragons fretting about being on the ground, Dany decided she had to take a chance, lifting up higher so she could check the position of the White Walkers and then diving quickly, instructing Drogon to attack at the very last moment, her sudden appearance a surprise, apparently, as the enemy attacking the gate exploded in an impressive mix of bright fire and melted water.

There was a sudden movement out of the corner of her eye - a blue flash of ice - and Dany acted instinctively, urging Drogon abruptly upwards, the cheers from those at the top of the Wall watching her attack, turning to worried cries and then back to cheers as her sudden manoeuvre caused the Night King’s weapon to fly harmlessly past.

Unfortunately she had arrived just a little late, the gate having already been yanked free, the tunnel now standing open and exposed with scores of wights rushing towards it, even though the largest, dead creatures were gone from that area now. Dany spotted another giant approaching within a second large group and dived down on Drogon towards this new target; determined to focus on the more deadly members of the Night King’s army and give the living a fighting chance.

After that second, successful attack she returned to the Wall, hovering near the top so she could check on everyone’s position and plan her next move. Another wave of wights were approaching the gate and she was just about to give the order for Drogon to flame when a group of about twenty soldiers came running out of the tunnel to slice through the dead with surprising ease. They then kept on running north-west - their swords bright in the winter gloom - and Dany realised that this was the Valyrian group, setting out to attack the White Walkers. She turned Drogon briefly south to note Rhaegal still on the ground and Dany started to worry, guessing that Jon had changed his mind about flying and cursing her husband for his valiant stupidity. He was Targaryen and the only other dragon rider. He was needed up here with her. How else could they put their plan into action? How else could they hope to win?

No matter the change of plan, Dany still had her job to do, surveying the position of friend and foe and then making several more calculated attacks, soaring high to keep herself out of harm’s way, before dropping down on Drogon’s back and firing at any groups that were likely to be exceptionally dangerous to those in the castle or the group heading towards the Night King. But it wasn’t going to be enough, she realised as she desperately twisted away from yet another long, pale ice spear. She couldn’t hope to keep this up on her own. All of the White Walkers’ attention was now set on her and Drogon, and the small group of fighters down below were seriously outnumbered.

A screech behind her made her catch her breath, a flap of wings and a roar of flame distracting the Walkers who were about to throw yet another spear in her direction. She had been wrong then? Jon _had_ managed to get to Rhaegal?

But then there was a third screech and Viserion came into view, turning and spinning and expertly manoeuvring around Rhaegal as he headed at speed towards the White Walkers.

“No,” she whispered. “You should have stayed on the ground. You’re in extra danger without a rider.”

However, as Viserion flew past her at speed, Dany was shocked to see a silver-haired rider on his back as he was directed over the heads of the White Walkers and a shower of black spikes were dropped down onto them. Then Rhaegal was also there - a silver haired rider on _his_ back too - spinning in a way Dany had never seen before, distracting and diverting the enemy’s attention whilst also dropping the small, dragonglass weapons before again swapping places with the other. Dany shook her head, confused as she watched her two smallest dragons expertly flown around and over the heads of the White Walkers with amazing speed and synchronisation.

“I … I don’t understand,” she mumbled as she squinted at the dragons, trying to see who could possibly be riding her children in such a way.

But, it didn’t matter, she realised. At least not at this point in time. She could get her answers later but, right now, her and the other two mystery dragon riders had a job to do. Daenerys dropped her head down on Drogon’s back and urged him to follow his brothers.

‘ _The Dragon must have three heads.’_

~o~0~o~

**Jon XXX**

**Castle Black**

The last few days had been exhausting, with Jon in almost constant demand for training, sorting out disputes and attending meetings to plan for the probable, imminent attack.

During this time he would often felt the familiar pull nearby - Dany obviously returning from one of her ferrying flights - although he missed her a few times during that final, crazy week, regularly scurrying back to his chambers to find it empty and with no sign of Drogon waiting for her on the ground, quietly frustrated that his wife had obviously flown away immediately without taking any real break.

He was worried, of course. About her, their baby and now for Arya too. Jon had instantly taken to Gendry when Dany introduced the young man to him but, a little later that evening whilst the pair sat together with horns of ale, the blacksmith had suddenly turned quiet and it had taken some time for him to be persuaded to speak about what was obviously on his mind.

“I met your sister,” Gendry said eventually. “Your younger one. Arya.”

“Oh? When was this?”

“When she escaped King’s Landing after your father’s death. She and I were supposed to come up here, in fact, travelling with a recruiter to join the Night’s Watch, although he was to drop her off at Winterfell before that, of course.” He sighed. “Not that we ever got anywhere close.”

Gendry shared a few more stories then, his soft smile as he recalled various incidences making Jon feel briefly uncomfortable, wondering at the affection the young man obviously held for his sister. Arya would have only been a child when the pair had first met though and she had most definitely changed since then. In more ways than one.

“And then ...” Gendry began, taking a very generous swig of ale. “I ... I saw her again. Recently.”

Jon frowned. “ _How_ recently?”

“Not really supposed to say.” He winced. “She’ll probably kill me if she finds out I told you but ...”

“Where?” Jon pushed. “In King’s Landing?”

Gendry looked up and nodded, surprised at Jon’s accurate guess. “She arrived at Camptown and went to speak to Varys. Next thing I knew the Spider had sent me a message to take her into the city via the Dragon Train.”

“Are you sure it was her?” Jon asked because had had kept wondering if that young, northern girl here in Castle Black was perhaps Arya in disguise, as much as the travelling time required to get back up here made that idea seem highly unlikely.

Gendry nodded. “I wouldn’t have been if I’d just seen her in passing. She’s changed a lot but … yes, it definitely was. We even … talked a bit, although I’m not exactly sure what she had in mind. I was recalled to Camptown to meet with Daenerys before I could discover any more.”

“I may have an idea,” Jon admitted with a loud sigh, “and it’s making me very nervous. I suppose there’s nothing much to be done about it though. She’s a grown woman now with some rather exceptional skills. Likely no need for either of us to worry about her.”

“I just … just thought I should mention it to you.” Gendry’s expression had turned a bit petulant, perhaps not happy about Jon guessing at an attachment. “She always did say you were her favourite brother.”

‘ _What are you up to, little sister?’_ Jon wondered, but there was no time for him to dwell on the question as Dany arrived then with news of the army closing in and more urgent preparations were needed as a result.

~o~0~o~

His wife had flown in and out a few times now, dropping off a number of able fighters and giving him and Edd updates about the position of the Night King’s army. After returning from Winterfell Dany had decided to head to Aemon’s room for a short rest and Jon had joined her soon afterwards, the pair of them falling quickly asleep and only waking briefly in the middle of the night when they exchange a little information about the latest plans.

“I’ve got a good group of soldiers now,” he told her. “Almost twenty, all armed with Valyrian steel from the present and the future. If you and I can deal with the wights on the dragons then they shouldn’t have too many problems.”

“And, if Bran is right about the Doors being hidden, then there’s no way the Night King will be expecting quite so many deadly weapons?”

“Hopefully not.”

“I’ve still got a few more to pick up,” she continued, yawning. “Off to Eastwatch next.”

Jon turned towards her, wishing it wasn’t so dark so he could see her face but just not having the energy to move. “Kiss me, Dany. Kiss me until I fall asleep. I wish we could do more but ...”

“I know.” She touched her lips to his a few times in the softest of kisses. “I don’t remember struggling this much the last time I was pregnant.”

He moved a hand down to her stomach, gently caressing it. “You weren’t dragon riding and time travelling the last time.”

“True.” Her next kiss lingered a little and Jon pulled her closer, savouring the feel of her lips against his.

“I really wish I could do more to you right now.”

“Just hold me,” she mumbled. “It still feels so rare and wonderful to have you in the same place when I fall asleep.”

“Just be careful,” he said as she snuggled up against his shoulder. “Take care of yourself and the little one.”

“Please stop fussing,” she complained. “We’re dragons, all three of us, and we _will_ see this through.”

~o~0~o~

On the morning of the battle, Jon was awoken from a doze by the blast of three horns, scurrying out to head up to the top of the Wall, not willing to risk Rhaegal at that moment when he could just as easily see how things stood for himself. He felt the familiar Targaryen pull halfway up but saw no sign of Dany once he had finally reached the top. Honestly though, he was feeling so tired and on edge at that point, it was likely his senses were playing tricks on him.

The dead army had arrived. Waiting unmoving for a while before very suddenly ambling towards the gate from several different angles. Jon took careful note of where the Night King and the White Walkers were - on a small rise to the west - and how many giants and mammoths he could see; sending messages up and down and then travelling up and down himself. He tired to push his exhaustion away and put his concern for Dany aside at the same time, simply focusing on the Night King and this upcoming battle and what he needed to do to protect the realm.

The first attack on the main gate gave him a strange sense of deja vu as he recalled a similar scenario here many years ago when mammoth-riding giants had attempted to breach it. But these creatures were going to be ever harder to destroy and his ragtag army’s attempts to drop flaming pitch barrels down had little effect. Then, finally, he saw Dany flying in and realised that she had been right all along. Two dragons were the only solution. He had to get to Rhaegal and adopt the flying plan they had discussed.

It was pure chaos in the courtyard by the time Jon had reached the ground, people asking for instructions and reassurance, despite him having drilled it into them numerous times over. A loud crash at the gate gave him pause though, suddenly torn. He really would be of more use to everyone on Rhaegal but, right now ..?

“The dragon’s about to attack. We need to move everyone away from the gate.” He looked down to find the young woman he’d met before pulling at his sleeve.

“Daenerys won’t engage yet,” he told her. “That’s not the plan.”

“You _have_ to get them to pull back,” she insisted. “Once she flames those mammoths, the soldiers in the tunnel will all get roasted too.”

It was a good point, Jon realised, quickly moving forwards towards the gate. What could those men do in there anyway? They would either be burnt or turned and neither was good news when they had so few soldiers to spare.

“Pull back!” he shouted and, to his surprise, everyone immediately obeyed.

“Huh,” the young woman grumbled. “They listen to _you_ , of course.”

He grinned at her, not at all taking offence at her disrespectful tone as he encouraged everyone out. He felt another strong pull then, seemingly in the opposite direction. Jon shook his head, confused by the sensation and trying to make sense of it. Then there was a small, warm hand squeezing his arm.

“You all right?” she asked.

“Dizzy.”

“You forgot to eat, didn’t you?”

He shook his head, part of him trying to pinpoint the pulls, the other half trying to ignore them. “When have I had the time?” he replied, automatically.

There was a roar and a sudden rush of sound and heat, followed by a large crash.

“Down! Get down!”

Jon jumped out of the way as a huge tongue of flame roared up the tunnel, hitting a few soldiers in the courtyard who were just a little too slow to move. He landed hard on the ground, face first - the snow beneath him quickly turning to water - before scrambling back up with a curse, coughing and spluttering and wishing he could see what was going on.

“I need to get to Rhaegal,” he mumbled.

“Come on, now’s our chance.”

Before he knew what was happening, Jon was surrounded by the Valyrian sword group he had gathered up: Jaime Lannister and the crowd from Eastwatch, Brienne and a bunch of knights and soldiers from the south who had earned their place in this elite group. The girl was here too, her fighting skills more than good enough for her to be included.

“Wait,” he said, this time grabbing at _her_ sleeve. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

“Lyanna.”

“What?”

She grinned at him. “A good, northern name, don’t you think?”

“But …“ Jon reeled again, now being pushed along with the flow and out of the tunnel, now dripping with melt water, all of them trying to keep their footing as they headed out.

The gate was gone. The group sprinted towards the open entrance only to be confronted by a group of wights coming in. With ordinary weapons this number might have been a problem but, with their Valyrian swords and their exceptional ability, the group hardly needed to pause, slicing through the group and quickly emerging onto the other side unscathed. A larger group of wights was now approaching the gate from the other side but they could not afford to get distracted.

“Ignore them,” Jaime Lannister shouted. “You know what we have to do. Head straight for the White Walkers. The dragons will help keep them distracted.”

Jon wanted to shout at them all to stop. This wasn’t the plan. He was supposed to be on one of those dragons he was supposed to ...”

“Oh! Look at them go!”

He wasn’t quite sure who had called out the exclamation but, as Jon craned his neck, it was to see two dragons overhead, wheeling and dodging and flying in a way he had never seen before. Soon one of them was over the White Walkers - Viserion, he thought - but … That couldn’t be right. That dragon wasn’t supposed to be this close. They couldn’t risk him without a rider. It was all going horribly wrong.

A shower of black rained down from the smallest dragon and then, a few heartbeats later, two White Walkers on the rise shattered into icy shards, causing a few breathless cheers from within the group. Spurred on they all began to run faster and now, finally, Jon stopped worrying about the plan having gone awry and focused instead on the new goal, drawing Longclaw and turning his gaze forward.

Towards the Night King.

‘ _I always said you were mine to kill.’_

He saw the enemy take a long, blue spear and aim it upwards and his own gaze followed, suddenly fearful. To his surprise Drogon was now the furthest away, focusing on a group of wights who had been heading this way, obviously a deliberate choice to ensure that his group were not distracted from their task. The two smaller dragons were the closest - darting and spinning and dropping more of those small spikes down on the White Walkers - easily avoiding the spears thrown at them. It was only then that Jon caught the brief glimpse of a silver haired rider on both of the dragons, freezing in shock at the sight.

“What’s going on?” he mumbled.

“Concentrate,” Lyanna scolded him, grabbing at his sleeve and pushed him onwards.

Shaking his head, Jon turned his gaze back to his target and moved forwards.

By the time the group had reached the enemy there were only nine White Walkers and the Night King himself left to fight. Jon was now only vaguely aware of the dragons, sensing that they had pulled back a bit to allow this group to do their job, probably joining Drogon in burning and destroying the wights now there was less concern about deadly spears heading in their direction. The remaining White Walkers now had other things on their minds - a group of over twenty knights heading their way, each armed with a deadly, Valyrian steel sword. Jon could do nothing more to help his team, having to trust that the ability he knew each held would serve them well and instead focusing on his own goal. He strode purposefully towards the Night King, every other distraction finally, blissfully muted to nothing.

One on one. Fire and Ice.

He lifted Longclaw, spun it purposefully and danced forward.

~o~0~o~

It had been a while since he had been truly tested. The two White Walkers he’d encountered in previous years were both bested in a couple of swings, apparently having very little skill when facing an opponent who was actually free to fight back, and Jon hoped that that would be the case for the others in his team.

The Night King, however, ended up being far more of a challenge.

Back and forth they went, Jon ducking and spinning and grinding his teeth each time Longclaw hammered into the long ice weapon his opponent wielded. It took him a while to realise that he was being pushed back towards the castle, only able to focus on each passing heartbeat, each thrust and parry and feint. The last time he had had a chance to look up, Jon had seen the other fighters all a little further north whilst he had ended up here, suddenly concerned at having the Night King quite so close to the open gate. He definitely could not afford to lose any more ground.

More time passed. His arms ached. His lungs burned. How much longer could he keep this up?

Someone was behind him now - the sensation thankfully non-threatening - and Jon wondered if the rest of the team had had an easier time of it and were now coming to his aid? He certainly had very little energy left to continue this fight on his own.

A small dark figure dashed past him then, sliding around the Night King’s feet and slamming something into the back of his leg. The enemy snarled and turned towards this new foe and Jon saw a long, dragonglass dagger sticking out of his calf - a small, slow crack edging up his leg, but otherwise doing very little damage. As the Night King spun around to confront Lyanna, Jon began to think again that this _must_ be Arya in disguise. It was certainly her style of fighting - fast and quick and deadly. However, as the Night King raised his sword to attack the girl, he put all questions to one side and acted instinctively, moving to the right and thrusting Longclaw deep into his enemy’s back.

Jon let go of his sword and fell to his knees, gasping for air as he watched the cracks start to travel throughout his opponent’s body, nervous about just how slowly the weapon was affecting him. ‘ _Far too slow.’_ Then the Night King spun around - two sharp, blue eyes now focused on Jon - and started to walk purposefully towards him.

“Move!”

Lyanna was pulling him to his feet and attempting to drag him away, limping even more than he was, urging him back towards the Wall and into the tunnel as flames descended from the sky and Drogon came roaring down to attack. Jon turned around just in time to see the Night King look up in surprise before he was covered in dragon fire and then Dany had urged her mount back up into the sky with nothing left behind but water soaking in the the slushy, muddy ground.

“How … How did that happen?” he gasped.

“Dragonglass, Valyrian steel and dragonfire,” Lyanna told him as she crumpled to the ground in the tunnel, clutching her leg. “The dragon must have three heads.”

“Are you all right?” Jon asked, collapsing down next to her.

“Please stop fussing,” she said, her tone and her glare looking worryingly familiar. Then she glanced up at the castle and winced. “Oh dear … I really am a very long way away.”

“It’s just down the tunnel. We’ll get you back there easily enough.”

Suddenly there were others there – about ten surviving members of the Valyrian group from the north and a few from the south come to check on them. Jon got caught up in the crowd and general mayhem, everyone asking question all at once.

“You did it! _We_ did it!” Edd was there, grabbing at his arm. Several more strong pats on his back almost flooring him and he looked around to find a scene of utter carnage within the castle; far more dead bodies than alive now scattered around the courtyard.

“They got in here?”

“Yes, unfortunately. We would not have lasted much longer if they hadn’t all disintegrated. You got the Night King I presume?”

Jon nodded, looking for Dany and the other dragons as he replied, “With a little help, aye.”

There was no sign of his wife and fear churned in his stomach as he again took note of all the dead here. A maester scurried over to tend him but Jon shooed him away, knowing he only really needed rest and sleep. _So_ much sleep. And perhaps some food. He was about the head outside to look for his wife when he was suddenly distracted by the sight of a small, dark-haired figure limping stubbornly up the stairs.

He rolled his eyes and followed the girl, placing a hand on her shoulder as she sucked in a breath and sat down heavily on the top step.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

“I’m fine just … have to.” She was blinking furiously, shaking her head. “I have to leave.”

“Back downstairs with you. Let’s get that leg seen to.”

“No.” She looked around and hauled herself up again, half staggering, half crawling towards the nearest wall and then pulling her knees up against her. Jon rolled his eyes at such stubbornness.

“Lyanna? Is that really your name?” he asked.

She looked up at him, dark eyes sparkling as she smirked at him, despite her obvious pain. ”Aye, although I did lie about being a Snow.”

Jon frowned. “I don’t understand.”

She shook her head. “Sorry, but I really do have to go now.”

“Go where?”

“Home.” She looked downwards and then up again.

“Who are you searching for?” Jon asked.

She shook her head. “I’m just making sure no-one else is looking this way because otherwise you’re going to have a _really_ hard job explaining what’s about to happen now.”

“What do you mean?”

She gave him a weak smile. “Bye, Papa. See you … later.”

And then she disappeared.

~o~0~o~

**End of Act Five**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of Act 5. 
> 
> Christmas preparations have meant no time for any new writing for a couple of weeks now but, fortunately, I've roughly written to chapter 35 so I've got enough of a cushion to keep me going and mean I only have to find a little editing time during the inevitable chaos here.
> 
> It might seem as if this big battle is all over rather quickly and perhaps a little too easily despite the unexpected help? The thing is, this fic was never really about the canon plots, as much as I felt they had to be included. Here though, the extra weapons and the extra dragon riders were something that was not seen in the visions which is why the Night King was bested (relatively) easily. I always wanted the Doors to have a hand in this victory even though, for the longest time, I had absolutely no idea HOW. What use could they possibly be when both Dany and Jon could get to places quickly on dragon back? That was the main reason for my stress in the early stages of this fic. I had a few things I wanted to include but absolutely no idea how I was going to get it all to work. 
> 
> Then back in October I had 'The Bath Revelation' (why do the best ideas always appear in the shower or bath?) and a couple of my friends will remember me coming into chat exceptionally excited about what had suddenly popped into my head - part of which has been revealed here. Couldn't get actual dragons to fly through those Doors from the future but .. perhaps I didn't need to! 
> 
> Stefifri was curious about Lyanna being able to visit for a long time if she really was from the future. Just to clarify, she's made a few trips through the Door (hence the numerous pulls Jon keeps feeling) She's not been here ALL this time.
> 
> Please do ask if you have any further questions about what has happened so far and feel free to speculate about what we might be seeing in Act 6.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another lovely moodboard by [the-last-targaryens](https://the-last-targaryens.tumblr.com/)

###  **Act Six: Forging Dragons**

****

**Jon XXXI**

**Castle Black**

Jon stared at the empty space in front of him, his mind reeling as he struggled to comprehend what had just happened.

“Papa?” he whispered. “I’m her father? How is that possible?” And yet, perhaps that helped explain why Lyanna had appeared so familiar to him.

“Jon!”

He looked up to find Dany mounting the stairs, only now realising how similar her features were to the young lady who had just disappeared, despite their different coloured hair. He swallowed hard, blinking back tears.

“Are you hurt?” she continued, rushing over and kneeling down beside him. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, his throat hoarse from exhaustion and emotion. “A little battered but mostly fine.” He dropped his head towards her, happily allowing her embrace, his hands finding her stomach as tears began to fall, fighting against his wife’s attempt to pull away from him. When she finally managed it, she placed both hands on his face as if not entirely believing his assertion.

“Are you sure?” She frowned and wiped away a tear. “What’s wrong?”

He gaze drifted briefly to her stomach before forcing himself to look at her face. “Nothing.”

“What happened here?” she pushed. “Why did you not go to Rhaegal?”

“I tried but ... things were happening too quickly and I just didn’t get the chance.”

“We did it though. We won. He’s gone.”

Jon shook his head. “It almost seemed too easy and yet … there were so many times out there when I thought I had lost you ... when I was nearly lost myself.”

“Still far too many deaths,” she agreed, lowering her gaze, her breath catching.

“Yes.” He shuffled closer again, having no desire in that moment to move from this spot, the pair of them just huddled together against the dark wall, his head still bowed onto her lap. “But not you,” he mumbled, his hand on her belly again. “Not our dau-child.” He winced at the assumption he had almost made. Was she carrying Lyanna right now? Or…? He found the will to sit up properly and look at her. “Who were those other two riders?”

“I’ve no idea,” Dany replied. “I wasn’t able to get close enough. I could only see their hair colour and that they looked Targaryen. Well, they would have _had_ to have been to ride the dragons but ...” She shook her head. “I don’t understand how they could have been riding Rhaegal and Viserion. I don’t understand how the dragons would allow it.”

“There’s a lot I don’t understand about what happened today,” Jon admitted. “We have so much to discuss about those … visitors.”

“Visitors? You think they were travelling in time?”

“Yes,” he replied, “In fact-”

“-Your Graces?”

Jon looked up and sighed on seeing the young man approach. “Yes, Arol.”

“The Lord Commander wants to see you both to talk over the battle. Straight away, he said.”

They exchanged a look, Dany biting her lip and somehow managing to confirm his own thoughts on the matter without either of them saying a word.

“Tell the Lord Commander the king and queen have other, urgent business and will be back here in a day or two to answer any questions he might have.”

To his credit the young man paused only briefly before wincing and then giving them a messy bow. “Of course, Your Grace,” he said before running off.

“Hmm, possibly a little _too_ reliable that one,” Jon said. “We’d better get going quickly before Edd gets that message and tries to change our mind.”

“Good idea.”

He hauled himself up with a great deal of effort, holding his hand out to help Dany up and escorting her back down the stairs, surprised at how steady he felt on his feet, considering. All three dragons were now back on the ground, as if they’d been there all day and giving no sign of exhaustion, injury or distress. Jon frowned and bit his lip, considering.

“I’ll ride with you on Drogon, I think. Let’s keep this simple.”

~o~0~o~

**Winterfell**

They had discussed flying to Dragonstone where they really could be assured of some peace and quiet but that would be a long journey, especially with them both being so battle weary, and they knew they had to return to the Wall very soon. So, they decided to take the relatively short trip to Winterfell, hoping they could avoid most of the questions and request some time alone in their chambers there. They had a lot to discuss, of course, although neither felt inclined to refuse Sansa’s offer of a hot bath and food, Jon trying hard not to fall asleep as he soaked in the tub that had been provided for him.

“Take off your shirt,” Dany demanded the moment she entered their chambers a little later and Jon raised an eyebrow at her order. “I’m quite sure you’re hiding some new injuries under there.”

“Oh,” he said, quickly stripping it off as he realised what she meant. “It’s really nothing, look. Nowhere near as bad as King’s Landing.”

She glared at him for the longest time, studying the faint scrapes and bruises before giving a short, curt nod. He immediately started to dress again but she stopped him, shaking her head firmly.

“Why are you putting it back on?”

“Because it’s not that warm here right now and we really need to talk.”

“We do, yes,” she said, “but you should know by now what fighting on a dragon does to me and I’ll be able to think far more clearly when I’m not quite so tense.”

Jon licked his lips as she untied her dress to reveal her nakedness, and his eyes quickly scanned her up and down as he stepped closer, one hand going to a breast the other to her stomach, humming appreciatively.

“I’m going to enjoy having even more of you to explore now,” he said.

“They’re bigger now, I think?”

He took one in each hand, first gently squeezing, then caressing before bending down so he could take a nipple into his mouth gently suckling.

“Definitely,” he mumbled as she gasped at the sensation. “And your stomach has such a lovely curve to it already. Lie on your back, my love, and let me explore you some more.”

“Just as long as you don’t tease me as much as last time.”

“I promise,” he replied, also stripping, before following her up onto the bed, opening her legs wide so he could settle himself in-between them and then bending down to place gentle kisses along her inner thighs.

“That qualifies as teasing,” she complained. “I’ve been far too long without you inside me, Jon. There really is no need for you to drag things out.”

He laughed, moving his lips further up, savouring the scent of soap and … Dany and happily delving in.

“More! Faster! I don’t want to wait.”

“Such an impatient little dragon,” he declared, replacing tongue with fingers in order to reply to her. “Let’s get you finished quickly then.” And he dived back in, trying to put his own urge to treat her gently to one side - using all the tricks he had learnt to push her quickly over the edge.

“Jon ...”

He loved it when she called out his name like that. Uttered with a special tone and breathlessness that she never used at any other time. He sat back on his haunches, smiling as he watched her slowly recover, fingers now very gently playing with her until he decided she was ready for the rest of him.

He groaned in delight as he slowly entered her. It had been a while now - what with one thing and another - and he had to stop a few times, despite her complaints, just so he wouldn’t finish too quickly. The feel of her around him, the way she was quivering underneath, her legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him down towards her. The sensations were almost too much to bear.

“Stop fighting it,” she told him. “Or roll over and let me finish the job if you’re not feeling able to do so.” Then she laughed as he growled in response, speeding up and showing her just how capable he was really feeling at that moment.

~o~0~o~

“Tell me about the dragon riders,” Jon asked as they cuddled up together afterwards. “Male? Female? Young? Old?”

“It was impossible to tell,” she replied. “They were flying too high and so very fast.”

“I noticed that, yes. And I thought _your_ riding skills were good.”

“And yet the dragons managed all those manoeuvres too. Even Viserion who’s never even had a rider on his back before.”

“That’s a good point,” he replied, frowning, “and, although I only saw some of it, they seemed to be taking our planned role in the battle but with a lot more finesse than we could have achieved.”

“Time travellers, you think?”

“Yes and …” He moved his hand to her stomach. “I was thinking they could be our children too.”

“Too? What do you mean?”

“I’m only now beginning to understand some of the things Rhaegar said to me during his first visit.” Jon replied. “I mean … I still can’t remember _everything_ , but I think he originally believed that all three of his children would be Dragons and then realised that they would be mine and not his.”

“The Dragon has three heads,” Dany mused.

He nodded. “Do you remember the girl I mentioned before? The one who was at Castle Black fighting?”

“Yes?”

“She called herself Lyanna Snow but that wasn’t true.” He laughed. “She could hardly use her real name, after all.”

“What are you saying?”

“She was our daughter, Dany, I mean she _i_ _s_ our daughter? Is going to be ..?” He groaned. “I don’t really understand most of this still but it does perhaps explain why I felt such a connection to her.”

Dany was sitting up now, shocked at his comment. “You … How do you know? You felt the pull?”

“I ...” He turned his head abruptly to look at her. “That’s a good point. I’d not thought about it much but, yes, I think now that I did. There was just so much going on and I assumed for most of the fight that I was simply sensing you.”

“So how did you work it out?”

“I didn’t. She told me. She was injured after the battle, kept going on about ‘getting back’ and then ...” He swallowed hard. “Then she called me Papa at the end. Just before she … disappeared.”

“Disappeared? As in thrown back through the Dragon Door?” Jon nodded. “She wasn’t too badly hurt?”

“Just her leg. Nothing serious as far as I could tell.”

“Do you think ..?” She swallowed hard and he moved a little more so he could look at her, smiling as he saw tears in her eyes. “Do you think this is her?” Dany moved her own hand so it was covering his resting on her stomach.

“I did wonder,” he replied, “but that’s why I was curious about the age of the two riders. They both had silver hair, didn’t they?”

“Yes, although that would be all I could tell you. Targaryen men traditionally wore their hair long too so even that isn’t much help.”

“I would wonder if they had come from the past but I don’t think that would make much sense. Targaryens from the near past would have had no dragon riding experience. Those from the future though?”

“Our children travelling back in time to help their parents and win the battle?” she asked, sounding sceptical before her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh.”

“Yes?”

“I think Uncle Aemon said that … about Rhaegar. Something about him believing that his three Dragon children would save the realm.”

Jon huffed. “He was only out by one generation then.”

“Or two? I think he originally thought _he_ was one of the three and then changed his mind when Viserys didn’t develop the ability.”

“But would it be possible for our child to have silver hair?” Jon asked. “I mean ... with mine being so dark?”

“Aegon did,” she replied, running her fingers through his curls, “and Elia’s Targaryen ancestry was more distant than yours. I’m not sure exactly how these things work but, with Rhaegar as your father, I would imagine that it’s quite possible, yes.”

“And what do we say if people ask about those riders?”

“I’m not sure anyone would,” she replied. “I knew because I was up there and because I knew the dragons couldn’t fly like that independently but I’m not sure most of the fighters would have noticed.”

“That’s a good point. I saw them but … I was also close to them in that group. I think, perhaps, the only ones who might suspect would be those who survived out there and perhaps some with very good eyes on the top of the Wall - although they would all have had other things on their mind at the time.”

“Should be easy enough for us to deny it,” she replied. “Honestly, despite what we said about returning north, we could always fly south instead. After all, we do need to inform Tyrion and the others about what happened up here.”

“True but I think we _should_ return to Castle Black, just to check Edd has everything under control. No reason why we would need to stay for long.”

Jon sighed, pulling her close again, feeling his eyes start to grow heavy. Dwelling again on Lyanna and feeling a sudden rush of emotions that he wasn’t sure how to deal with.

“We really had to discuss this,” he said, “and yet … it’s also … difficult to come to terms with. Rhaegar warned us against travelling to the future. He said that seeing glimpses … seeing what _would_ happen could cause so many problems. I mean, I can’t help thinking about what Bran said and how the future is fixed if we travel back to some point in the past. That’s what our children did and so that _should_ be good news and yet … I still find myself worried that he might not fully understand how it works and something might happen to change that future and now - having met her - I... I don’t think I could bear it if I never got to see her again."

Dany nodded, nuzzling her cheek up against his shoulder. “I understand. Part of me wants to ask you all about her, find out just as much as I can about our daughter, but then there’s the other part that doesn’t. That’s afraid of getting attached somehow? And then I start to feel guilty that I’m trying not to think about her at all.”

He kissed her head. “I understand what you mean but there’s no need to feel guilty. I think for now we should just try to put the idea of those three Targaryens to one side and not dwell on that aspect of the battle too much. We know what happened - or what will _probably_ happen - but we really do need to focus on getting King’s Landing fully under control and helping the realm to recover after everything it's been through.”

~o~0~o~

**Dany XXXI**

**Castle Black**

“We should have stayed,” she mumbled later. “We should not have been so selfish to abandon them all after everything they've been through.”

“It’s just for a day,” Jon said. “You need the break and we’ll both be of far more use to everyone when we return.”

“I know but I still feel guilty. They need us. Grey Worm ...” She sobbed, having tried so hard to put the fear to one side but now realising that Jon might have the information she didn’t. “I should never have left him there.”

“What happened?” he asked her gently.

“He was being brought in when I came looking for you. Alive but badly injured and he said … He said he saw Jorah fall?”

“I got separated from everyone out there, I’m afraid. Had all my attention focused on the Night King so … I couldn’t say for certain who survived.”

Dany sighed. “He’s been by my side for so long and, despite our … unusual relationship I ... Before I found you again he was the closest thing to family I had.”

He kissed her head, pulling her closer. “We’ll return tomorrow, I promise, and then we can find out for certain.”

She nodded, distracting herself from thoughts of the battle by finally discussing her visit to Rhaegar with him, although she only touched on it briefly. However, it wasn’t long until their exhaustion from the time travelling, the battle and her pregnancy won over, pulling them both down into the deepest sleep either had had for a good, long while.

They woke disorientated, the ongoing darkness giving little clue to the time of day. The food left for them was now cold and Jon was convinced they’d slept half the day away already. After quickly dressing and eating the pair hurried out to find Sansa and Bran and give them rather more coherent details of the northern battle than they had managed the day before.

They returned to Castle Black the following day, enduring the expected scolding from Edd and Davos about their disappearing act with good grace, confident that it had been the correct decision with both of them now feeling strong enough to deal with the aftermath of the battle. They had lost more than they thought within the castle, the initial attack on the gate allowing a small but deadly group of wights in and quickly turning those who had been caught unawares inside. The Valyrian group had fared a little better but Edd now confirmed her worst fears about Jorah as well as giving the news that Jaime, Bronn, Thoros and Beric had also fallen. Jon and Dany visited Grey Worm and the other injured here before taking a short flight north to confirm the theory had been correct and that the death of the Night King had instantly ensured the destruction of all those he had turned.

Whilst she was scouting, Dany couldn’t help but think of those other two riders, the memory of their amazing flying and Jon’s thought that they were their future children, distracting her a little from the task at hand. Her husband was right, of course, there was no point speculating on such a thing for now, seeing it would likely be years until they could discover exactly what had happened up here. For now though, there was work to do and a realm to rebuild from Wall to Dorne. That task had already been started up here, with huge bonfires burning any trace of the dead, even those newly fallen who now had no chance of coming back.

Jon speculated that the wildlings’ practice of burning the dead would now be taken up by all those further south. A new tradition born of this terror, perhaps continuing for aeons without any true understanding of why such a thing was required.

~o~0~o~

They were woken the following day by a knock on their door - Davos entering their chambers with apologies for the disturbance.

“A raven, Your Graces,” he said, “From Tyrion in Camptown.” He held the message out between them until Jon gave his Hand a nod of confirmation that it was Dany’s to read.

“He says here that ‘things are happening’ and that we should come down as soon as the conflict up here allows.” She huffed a laugh at the comment

“There is no way they can know what has happened up here yet,” Jon said. “Even if we had thought to send a bird immediately after the battle, Tyrion wouldn’t have received the news before he sent this.”

She nodded. “Especially because we still have to send them via Rosby.”

“Oh?”

“Can’t risk them being shot down over King’s Landing,” she explained. “I suppose that means we have another flight to make. No real excuse for staying up here now.”

“I shall pack my bag too then,” Davos said.

She exchanged a glance with Jon who just shrugged. “You’ll be most welcome, of course.”

~o~0~o~

Dany also offered to return Gendry to King’s Landing but the blacksmith politely refused.

“I’ve only just got here though,” he told her with a smile before turning to Jon. “The north will be struggling to cope with so much loss just as winter fully sets in and so perhaps you would have use of a blacksmith in Winterfell?”

Jon huffed out a laugh at the question. “That’s a good idea. Why don’t you seek out Lady Brienne and her party and ask to join them on their journey south and I’ll write Sansa a letter to ensure you’re readily accepted there.”

That arranged, the royal couple said their farewells to Edd and then got ready for the long flight south. They still weren’t sure what the Night King’s destruction might mean as far as the current harsh winter was concerned. Certainly there was no immediate change in the weather, a severe blizzard slowing their journey and requiring them to stop at Dragonstone in order to rest the dragons and fall asleep themselves. Missandei had no more news to give them when they woke the following morning either, only repeating that Tyrion seemed impatient for them to arrive at Camptown.

“We should perhaps all fly in on Drogon?” Jon suggested the following morning as the three of them left the castle for the relatively short flight west.

“No,” Dany replied firmly.

“No?”

“You’re my husband, the father of my Targaryen child and a Targaryen in your own right. I think it’s high time Tyrion and the rest of my camp came to understand that.”

Jon winced. “And everyone else? Do you think the whole of King’s Landing is ready for that news?”

She shrugged. “Why not? The rumours have already reached here anyway.”

“What rumours?” he asked, shocked.

“That there’s a second dragon rider and I think Jaime at least guessed something of your heritage.”

“I wondered why he kept staring at me so much,” Jon said. “I kept getting the feeling he wanted to discuss something with me but, honestly, there just wasn’t time for small talk up there. It was all about getting ready for the fight just as soon as he arrived.”

“I tend to agree with your good lady wife,” Davos said then. “I understand _why_ you wanted to keep such news to yourself but I think now it would actually be a help to you. Despite Cersei’s determination to paint House Targaryen in a less than favourable light, most people in the realm understand your family’s part in its history and hold you, and the dragons, in high regard. I think your blood will only help to solidify your joint claim, and your win up at the Wall, plus the support of those who chose to follow you before your gained all your titles, will help even further.”

Her husband looked surprised at such a long speech but Dany just smiled, happy with Davos’ comment. “And I agree with your Hand, Jon,” she said. “So you’ve been over-ruled.”

Her husband simply rolled his eyes and moved towards Rhaegal without further comment, Davos chortling quietly as he followed the queen towards Drogon.

So the three of them flew in on two dragons - Viserion following - over the narrow stretch of sea and towards the large settlement of Camptown which appeared to have grown even more in the week or so since Dany had last left it. By the time they landed, a crowd had gathered to watch, with no way for anyone to ignore the fact that Jon had arrived on his own dragon. As the trio strode toward Tyrion and Varys, the crowd edged back slightly, torn between returning to their tasks and watching to see if they could find out more about what was going on.

Jon stopped in front of Tyrion, her Hand eyeing her husband, his eyes gleaming in recognition.

“The Bastard of Winterfell,” he intoned, shocking Dany with the bluntness.

“The Dwarf of Casterly Rock,” Jon replied with hardly a pause. The two then smiled and moved to shake hands whilst Dany rolled her eyes.

“Men!” she exclaimed. “And I think we need to start by correcting you in regard to my husband’s name _and_ his status.”

Tyrion nodded. “You will be taking your wife’s House, I assume?”

Jon looked over to her, wincing and she nodded to encourage him to reply. “Ah, not exactly.” He looked around as they entered the pavilion as if to reassure himself that it was just the five of them. “It appears that Targaryen has been my name all along.” There was a stunned silence as Dany’s two advisors just stared at him for a long time. “I recently learnt that my mother was Lyanna Stark and so I’m sure a couple of bright men such as yourselves can figure the rest out easily enough.”

Tyrion’s jaw visibly dropped open whilst Varys’ wide eyed stare turned to a sudden, understanding smile. “Rhaegar,” he said. “I have not had the honour of meeting you until now, Your Grace, but I can say that you certainly favour them both.”

“Well, I suppose that explains the dragon riding then,” Tyrion said. “Who else knows of this? And how did _you_ come to learn of it?”

“Only my family knows,” Jon replied. “My _Stark_ family, that is. Plus Davos and a friend of mine who brought me some written evidence of Rhaegar and Lyanna’s secret marriage.”

“What!”

Dany grinned at their reaction. “As I said, my husband is not and has never been a bastard, although I suspect he will carry the name Snow around with him for some time yet.”

Jon shrugged. “I stopped being concerned about _that_ a while ago and have collected so many names and titles over the years that it’s even less of a worry about what I’m called.”

“We also have news about-” Dany began.

“As much as I would love to hear more about this,” Varys said, “I believe we have more urgent business to discuss?”

“Indeed,” Tyrion said turning to the new arrivals. “A couple of days ago some rumours came our way regarding Cersei.”

“Oh?”

Her Hand frowned, uncertain. “That she had died in King’s Landing under mysterious circumstances.”

“A coup?” Dany guessed. “Her soldiers disagreeing with her stance?”

“Perhaps?” Tyrion replied, “although I’m not convinced about that. Anyway, we decided it was time to take advantage of that passageway and sent a contingent of the Unsullied in to see what we could find out.”

Dany eyed him suspiciously. “You couldn’t have waited for our return?”

“I had no idea how long you would be or what threat you were facing up there,” Tyrion said, “and you did leave me in full command down here, if you recall?”

She exchanged a look with Jon who shrugged. “There is no longer a threat from the north. The Night King has been vanquished.”

“How?” Tyrion shook his head as soon as he said it. “No, Varys is right, let’s focus on Cersei and King’s Landing for now. Unless there’s anything about that conflict which might directly affect this one?”

She and Jon exchanged another look. “Not that I can think of,” Jon replied. “Other than us having to relay some bad news.”

“Jaime?” Tyrion asked, pained.

“I’m sorry,” Dany said. “And Ser Bronn. I know you were close to him too.”

Her Hand frowned before shaking his head. “Time enough to grieve later. Now though you should know that the Unsullied are currently in the city. There’s definitely been fighting in there but we don’t know much more than that. We were debating sending another group in.”

“I think perhaps Jon and I should fly up and take a look first?”

“Why don’t you do that, Daenerys and I’ll go up through the passageway.” Her husband put his hand on his sword. “Just a small group, so we can keep a low profile in case there’s a problem in there.”

She winced. “I’m not sure ...”

Jon moved over to her, taking both his hands in hers and dropping his voice to a whisper. “I’ll be fine and you know I have another way out now if things get difficult?”

She nodded. “Be careful.”

He smirked. “ _Now_ who’s fussing?”

She rolled her eyes, knowing he was right. “You can punish me for it later then.”

He laughed and bowed deeply. “I look forward to it, my queen.”

~o~0~o~

Dany spent the next couple of hours flying over and around Aegon’s Hill, trying to make some sense of the small dots of people milling around in the castle below. Some were running out towards the gate and leaving via the city whilst others fought inside the walls - small groups of black versus red but always moving away too quickly for her to get any true indication of the state of play. Frustrated she flew back to land, wishing she’d gone in with Jon even though she knew none of them would have allowed it. She even briefly contemplated flying back to Dragonstone so she could step directly into the Keep via the Door but, considering Jon’s experience last time, it was probably best not to take the chance until she knew exactly what was happening.

She landed just outside Camptown, frustrated that she had gained no useful knowledge, the soreness from so much recent dragon riding beginning to set in, especially considering her currently delicate stomach and general fatigue from her pregnancy. As she reached the ground it was to see the Spider hurrying over to her, hands in sleeves as he bowed deeply to her.

“My queen,” he said.

“What news, Lord Varys?” she asked.

“ _Good_ news, Your Grace,” he replied. “King’s Landing is yours.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in serious panic mode now as I host Christmas and there just never seems to be enough time at this point in the week. Looking forward to being able to get back to some proper writing rather than attempting to squeeze editing in around all the preparations.
> 
> Happy Holidays for whatever festivities you celebrate at this time of year. Click [**HERE**](http://iamthewatcheronthewall.tumblr.com/post/181293774677/christmas-2018wav) for a little Christmas Present from me to all my wonderful Jonerys friends.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the 28th December 2017 I started to make a few sketchy notes about a new story idea.
>
>> I write what seems like a pure AU where a young Dany and Jon seem to be in the same place. Probably canon era – although not certain about that – and the two are regularly interacting, apparently growing up as friends, but no-one else is ever there. Later it turns out that they've got this magical skill which allows them to interact despite the fact they live miles apart.
> 
> Just over a year ago! But it took another few months before I was in any position to start publishing.

**Dany XXXII**

**King’s Landing**

Queen Daenerys walked through the gates of King’s Landing. Finally hers after all this time. Her Unsullied soldiers were by her side, although she felt Jorah and Grey Worm's absence especially keenly. She worked hard to remain detached and aloof as she headed into the castle but remained distracted by each group of soldiers she encountered, constantly looking for Jon. Hoping he had come to no harm.

More groups of Lannister soldiers were brought over to her, hands on heads, as her Unsullied ushered them out. The lower ranked ones would be invited to join her own army, whilst the higher ranked would either be interviewed or imprisoned to be dealt with later. Her own men crowded close to her, as if not believing or trusting the Red Keep was fully under their control, and Dany had to admit that she did not feel truly relaxed until she saw Jon sauntering out with one of the final captured groups – looking exceptionally weary but uninjured – the relief she felt on seeing him overtaking all thoughts of the image she should probably portray as queen.

She strode quickly to meet him halfway, unashamedly throwing her arms around her husband’s shoulders and allowing his very public embrace.

“You’ve done it,” he whispered. “Finally you’ve got what you always wanted.”

“Yes,” she mumbled into his neck, “but that was not this castle after all.”

He pulled away with a frown. “What do you mean?”

She laughed, a hand on his cheek. “You, you idiot. _You_ are what I’ve always wanted. You and our child. A home and a family. A sense of belonging.”

Jon breathed out, starting to move in for a kiss before realising the audience they now had and then giving a small, embarrassed cough. He began to step away but Dany was having none of it, preventing him from moving by tucking her hand into his arm and ushering him towards their advisors.

“No problem then?” Davos asked Jon.

“The first wave had done most of the work by the time we arrived,” he replied with a shrug. “We just needed to root out a few stubborn, final groups of resistance.”

“My sister?” her Hand asked.

Jon frowned and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Tyrion.”

“What happened?” Dany asked.

“It’s still not entirely clear,” Jon said, his eyes now scanning her advisors closely. “She, the Mountain and most of her Queensguard were found dead in Maegor’s Holdfast.”

“If she was in there then she must have believed her life to be in danger,” Tyrion suggested.

“From what we’ve gathered so far, she moved in there just as soon as Jaime left. She was quite determined to keep herself protected.” Jon turned to Varys. “Any further thoughts on that?”

The Spider’s eyes sparkled as he held Jon’s gaze. “Are you implying something, Your Grace?”

“I know that you swore to the queen that you’d remain loyal.”

“I swore to our queen that I would and I have,” he retorted. “She knows full well that I serve the realm before any single person.”

“So, you _did_ have something to do with Cersei’s death?” Dany asked.

“Only in that I allowed someone entry via the tunnel with minimal questions asked.”

Next to her Jon groaned and she turned to him, curious about his reaction.

He shook his head. “Later.”

A soldier scurried over to them. “We have a few Lannister men here for you to question, Your Grace … ah, Your Grace?” he said with a bow to each of them. The man was Westerosi but wearing a makeshift black and red uniform indicating that he was now part of _their_ army.

She nodded. “Lead the way, Captain.”

It was more of a small chamber than a cell, where one Queensguard and two Lannister officers were being closely guarded by a handful of Unsullied. One of the prisoners was an exceptionally tall man of advancing years with a long scar down one side of his face, whose lip curled in disgust as he saw Daenerys walked in.

“You! We should have killed you years ago. How did you escape Dragonstone?” But then his gaze moved to Jon, walking by her side, and his expression changed abruptly to one of shock.

“But that’s …. that’s just not possible.”

Dany turned to her husband who was looking curiously at the soldier in front of him. “You do seem familiar,” he admitted.

“You’re a ghost!” the soldier exclaimed. “How can you be here now, looking the same age as you did then? What happened on Dragonstone? How did you both escape?”

“Oh...” Jon’s reaction was a mere whisper.

Dany, still confused, looked over at her husband to see him subtly touch Longclaw’s pommel whilst giving her a very pointed look.

“It _is_ you,” the Lannister soldier continued. “I recognise that sword.”

“Can anyone tell me what he’s going on about?” Tyrion asked.

“Ah, no idea,” Jon replied, rather too casually to be entirely convincing.

“I’m assuming he’s talking of the Baratheon attack on my family,” Dany said, taking a small step forwards – Jon and an Unsullied stepping with her. “You were perhaps part of the Lannister army that took part in that massacre?”

The man scoffed. “Just doing what should have been done immediately after the Battle of the Trident. Getting rid of the Targaryens once and for all.”

“Well, as you see, you didn’t succeed,” Dany replied as calmly as she was able, her mind already thinking up a number of different ways she could deal with this particular soldier. “I was already in Essos with my brother by that time.”

“But _you_ were most definitely there,” the man said, turning his attention back to Jon.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied whilst Dany hoped that Tyrion and Varys wouldn’t notice the amused sparkle in his eye. “I was just a boy living in Winterfell during the sack of Dragonstone.”

The man shook his head. “Some sort of magic then. I know it was you. I saw you disappear through that door.”

“What door?” Tyrion asked. “What is he on about?”

Next to Jon, Davos sucked in a sharp breath and Dany winced, knowing that her husband’s Hand was now likely to start asking some awkward questions.

“Look, I understand that all of this must have been quite traumatic for you,” she said, working to divert everyone’s attention. “But we are only here to find out what happened to Cersei.”

“Queen Cersei was safe and well guarded in Maegor’s Holdfast,” the man hissed. “There was no way she could have been reached ordinarily.” He turned his attention to the royal advisors and soldiers. “You serve a Targaryen witch and her pet warlock. Would you be ruled by magic?

Jon scoffed, amused, but Dany looked nervously at Varys as he stepped forwards, knowing her advisor’s thoughts on such practices.

“I would be ruled by honour and kindness,” the Spider answered, calmly. “I would be ruled by those who would neither demand nor condone the murder of innocent children under the guise of justice.”

“Perhaps time spent in the Black Cells will teach this soldier some respect and perspective,” Jon suggested, stepping forwards. “And then maybe these other two might have some more useful answers to our questions?”

Dany tried hard not to laugh and the look of total terror on the prisoner’s faces on hearing Jon’s calm, smiling response.

“Know any good spells?” she whispered as the tall man was taken away.

Jon rolled his eyes as he turned to her. “I know you’ll probably tell me off for saying this but, you look pale, my love. Do you need to rest?”

“Yes,” she answered simply, “As do you, but let’s get everything sorted here first, shall we?”

~o~0~o~

The royal chambers had already been cleared and cleaned a little and a few of the queen’s chests brought in from Camptown, although there was still a lot of work to do until the place would be furnished to her satisfaction.

She and Jon lay down on top of the embroidered covers on the bed with heavy sighs, his hand reaching for hers, whilst she wondered if she even had enough energy to turn onto her side in order to rest her head against his shoulder as usual.

“They’re all going to want to know what that soldier was talking about,” she said.

“Aye, and Davos probably knows enough to be told the full truth of it now. What do you want to say to Tyrion and Varys?”

“I’m hoping we can dismiss it as nonsense to them,” she replied. “I mean, you _were_ a thirteen year old at Winterfell at the time and everyone _does_ believe me to have been in Essos with Viserys during the attack.”

“That’s true.” He sounded as if he was almost asleep. “It’s chaos here, my love and not set to get any quieter for quite some time. Why don’t you take a day or two on Dragonstone to recover?”

“What about you?”

“I’m not sure we can _both_ afford to be absent right now.”

“I should be here though,” she argued half-heartedly.

“I thought … Didn’t you say something about preferring Dragonstone as your seat of power?”

“I did yes,” she replied. “It’s just-”

“-We have the dragons _and_ the Doors at our disposal,” Jon interrupted, “and so there’s really no reason why we can’t both come and go quickly at a moment’s notice. Let me take the strain off you for the next day or two, at least?”

“All right,” she mumbled.

“Really?” He turned his head to look at her, obviously surprised at how easily she had agreed.

“Only because you’re right about it being calmer on Dragonstone and I’m really not feeling myself at the moment. I’ll go there for a couple of days and then fly back so we can swap over. You are going to need a break soon too. I’ve never seen you look so pale.”

“I’m fine...” he slurred.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you sound fine. Go to sleep, Jon. We’ll talk about this some more in the morning.”

~o~0~o~

**Jon XXXII**

**King’s Landing**

The following day was the first opportunity Jon and Dany had had to sit and talk with their advisors and allow them to catch up with the latest news. First they related what had happened at the Wall, although Jon felt that his telling of the tale fell a little flat. Not being able to talk about the miraculous appearance of two highly experienced dragon riders made the whole thing sound a little … easy, perhaps? Although, fortunately, Daenerys was a far better story teller than he was, taking over from him halfway through and explaining how many ice spears had been thrown at all three dragons and just how close some of them had come to hitting home.

This was the first time Jon had a chance to explain Lyanna’s comment about the three elements required in combination to defeat the Night King – dragonglass, Valyrian steel and dragon fire – although he credited Bran with the knowledge, obviously unable to tell everyone that their daughter had come from over twenty years in the future to help him win the ground battle.

The conversation then turned to the news of Jon’s parentage and what limited evidence he had to support it. Dany and Varys seemed keen for it to be announced right away, whilst he agreed with Tyrion that there was little need now that he and the queen were married and set to rule jointly. Most of the evidence they did have was likely to be questioned anyway, with the written information about his parents’ marriage not actually proving his birth, and the only real evidence of _that_ being Bran’s visions, which would likely not be readily accepted by most of the realm. In fact, the best evidence they had of Jon being a Targaryen was the dragons’ acceptance of him and the fact he could use the Doors, and the latter was still not something either of them felt inclined to discuss.

“And the final piece of news we need to share is that I am pregnant,” Dany said, turning to Jon with a fond smile as he reached out his hand to take hers and squeeze it firmly.

There were hearty congratulations and the inevitable questions from Dany’s advisors about her assertion that she could not have children. Davos, however, beamed from ear to ear, slapping Jon on the back so firmly that the young king was almost knocked off his chair.

“Of course I need to be involved in as much of the organisation here as possible,” his wife continued, “although I’m currently feeling especially tired and weak and so Jon and I have agreed to take it in turns to spend time here and at Dragonstone, which will be a far quieter ruling centre for us at the moment.”

“What are you saying?” Varys asked. “That you wish for _that_ to be your capital?”

“Perhaps?” she replied. “But not right now. It’s just that it gives us a chance to return to the idea of the island being the seat of the heir and perhaps more of a family home where we can raise this one and any others we may be fortunate enough to have. And the dragons, of course.”

“And there is great advantage to me being able to ride Rhaegal, of course,” Jon added. “It means that neither of us are more than an hour away from the other throne and a day at the most if we are visiting other castles such as Winterfell.”

“Which you’re leaving in Lady Sansa’s hands, I assume?” Varys asked him.

“Aye, although there is much work to do both there and at the Wall and I still hope to have some hand in the decisions made in both places.”

“There is a huge amount of work to do throughout most of the kingdom,” Dany added. “We’ve lost so much in recent years. High lords and ladies, great Houses and far too many people and animals in general. It will take a long time and a great deal of effort until the realm is fully settled and prosperous again.”

“And you have _us_ to assist you with that task,” Tyrion reminded them. “Yes, Your Grace. Take a few days at Dragonstone if that is what you need.” He turned to Jon. “You could do so too if you wish?”

“I could, aye, and I might well ask for us to take some time off together soon, but I think there is far too much to do right now. Daenerys will fly over there tomorrow and take a few days to recover and then we’ll swap.” He grinned. “I think you might be surprised at how easy it is for the pair of us to stay well informed.”

Next to him, Dany rolled her eyes, not at all impressed by his unsubtle comment about the Doors.

~o~0~o~

**Dragonstone**

“How are you?” Jon asked as he stepped over to the living room at Dragonstone to find Dany at the desk surrounded by scrolls and parchments.

“Jon! You came.” She stood up and rushed to him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and nuzzling at his neck. Jon groaned as his body reacted dramatically to his wife’s enthusiastic embrace.

“I told you I would.” He chuckled. “This is a lovely welcome, Dany but I only saw you yesterday.”

“I’m a bit emotional at the moment,” she replied, with a deep sigh. “And also feeling very guilty about being here and not at King’s Landing with you.”

“Don’t be silly,” he scolded her. “You needed the break and, anyway, by the looks of it, you’ve not exactly been idle?”

She shrugged as she turned to the very cluttered desk. “I’ve been writing messages and lists. It’s important work, of course, but I still feel lazy. How’s it going over there?”

He sighed, pulling her closer again. “It’s exhausting. I’m just pleased that I was able to get away to step through to you tonight. Thought I only needed your company and to talk through a few things but, now I’m here, I realise I want something else … if you’re feeling well enough, of course.”

He felt her laugh as she slid her hands lower and then around to squeeze at him, rubbing up against his hardness and making him groan. “I always want you, my love. You know that.”

“The bad news is that your chambers are not going to be the best place for us tonight,” he told her.

“What do you mean?”

“I was trying to work out where I’d end up if I fell asleep in your bed tonight.”

“Oh, where?”

He leant over to pick up a copy of the Dragon Door map. “I mean, it is a proper room, as far as I can tell, but it’s on the other side of the wall behind our bed chambers at King’s Landing about … here.” He pointed to the place on the map. “And the entrance to it is some distance away as you can see.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Viserys’ old room appears to line up perfectly with the smaller chamber within the royal suite so that would work.”

“Ugh, I’d rather not.”

Jon laughed. “I understand but I’m beginning to think we should just clear out the whole of this wing and start again. Furnish it with all the other castles and their Doors in mind so we can easily hop between them.”

She nodded. “If we completely redecorate then, yes, why not. Where do you think our bed in King’s Landing is at the moment?”

“Somewhere in this room? Or perhaps the corridor? Not exactly sure but if we make a little nest here by this desk then I should wake up back in our chambers, even if it is on the floor. At least then I’ll have a better idea for next time.”

She nodded heading off towards her room. “Let’s go and collect some furs then.”

~o~0~o~

The fire was blazing well by the time they had set up the makeshift bed on the floor but it still felt cold and so they both buried themselves under the covers, caressing and kissing before very slowly starting to undress. Jon remained mostly clothed, sliding right underneath the furs so he could explore his wife properly, enjoying her giggles as he divested her of her trousers and began to kiss up the inside of her bare legs. Unable to see much in the dark, he used his hands instead, sliding them up past her hips and from there to her stomach where he hummed in approval at the very obvious curve he could feel there. Then he moved his lips around blindly until he encountered the soft hair between her legs and quickly dived down to taste her, growling as he did so and enjoying her sounds of pleasure as she experienced the vibrations his sounds were creating.

“Gods, I’ve missed your taste,” he managed to say before returning to his task, his exhaustion now placed firmly to one side as he focused on pleasuring her and quickly tipping her over the edge.

“I need you undressed,” she gasped as she came down from her high. “I need you inside me.”

“I’ll stay mostly clothed, I think,” Jon said as he slid his trousers down to his knees. “I really am very tired and not entirely sure where I’ll end up so...” He groaned as he hauled himself up into position.

“Well then, if you’re _that_ tired you’d better lie down,” she said, wriggling out from under him. “On your back, my beautiful fire-wolf and let _me_ do the riding.”

He started to do as she asked but then paused, belatedly registering what she had said. “Fire-wolf?”

“You don’t like that?”

“It’s not that, it’s just … It sounds familiar but I can’t remember where I’ve heard it before.” He sighed, trying to get his sleepy brain to work, but then suddenly Dany’s legs were around his hips and he was engulfed by the perfect warmth of her as she slid slowly down onto him. “Oh...”

“Yes, you were saying?” she teased.

“No idea,” he said, throwing his head back on the furs. “Please don’t stop.”

~o~0~o~

Jon awoke with a start, for a moment wondering why he was lying on a hard, wooden floor of the King’s Landing royal chambers, some way from the bed. His trousers were still not fully on and he could recall nothing after his wife had ridden him to his end, perhaps proving just how tired he really was. He couldn’t even remember if Dany had managed to finish a second time and did not like the idea of having disappearing mere moments after spilling inside her. He would most definitely need to make it up to her the next time they were together.

He groaned as he got up and tied his trousers properly, still tired and bruised from the northern battle, looking around and grabbing a random vase to place on the floor where he’d been lying so he might work out the directions later on when he was a little more awake. Now though it was all Jon could do to stagger over to the large bed and collapse down onto it, falling asleep again almost immediately.

He felt as if he had hardly closed his eyes before he was being woken again by some cheery servant with a tray full of food for him. At least he knew he had made the right decision in regards to Dany. If _he_ was struggling this much after the last week then she would have had even more trouble coping. He staggered into the first meeting that day, still wearing his crumpled clothes from the day before and with his hair left untied. He forced himself to take detailed notes throughout, otherwise he was quite certain he would remember none of it later when he met up with Dany via the Door.

It had started with discussions about the logistics of their joint rule. Would they have Kingsguard or Queensguard or half and half? Would they take on different roles within the capital or share the work equally? Jon had suggested that he could accept some military role if required and leave the governing to his wife, until Tyrion pointed out that she was to be a mother soon and therefore the king would likely need to be fully up to speed in all aspects of ruling over the next several months.

Jon was fairly certain that his wife would be up on her throne nursing their child and overseeing the governance of the realm at the same time. However, he also understood that there was no way of knowing for certain how she would cope over the next few months and that being parents was going to be an enormous challenge for both of them.

In fact, right at this moment, Jon realised that the thought of being a new father was an even more terrifying prospect than being the king.

The end of the meeting involved discussions on how to slowly integrate Camptown back into King’s Landing where Jon happily allowed Tyrion and Varys to offer up suggestions whilst he focused entirely on writing notes, groaning as he tried to hard to focus on the blurry words now swimming in front of his eyes.

“You all right?” Davos asked.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m just so very tired right now.”

“I quite understand,” Tyrion said. “Let’s adjourn for a couple of hours and then finish this discussion during a supper meeting later this evening. How does that sound?”

Jon nodded, pleased for the excuse, only to find that sleep eluded him, his head now far too full of words and plans and questions to allow it.

At least he had managed a short rest and, fortunately, the supper provided was generous with supplies now having worked their way into the Keep from outside. Tyrion grumbled about the quality – or lack thereof – but Jon had spent time at the Wall and even further north with the Free Folk and so was quite used to plain and slightly stale food, wolfing down what he was offered, desperate to start regaining some of his lost strength. He left the meeting just as early as he was able, weaving his way back up to his chambers as if he had drunk considerably more than the two mugs of weak southern ale that had been provided.

~o~0~o~

Jon awoke abruptly in the dead of night after a dream about Dany which had left him hard and breathless. Without really thinking about it, he got up, threw on a warmer shirt and trousers over his sleeping attire and walked out of the large, luxurious chambers and towards the small room a little further down the corridor, his mind wandering again to where he had ended up last night and how he and Dany could more accurately map the various locations within these two castles.

That should be easy for them to achieve now, he realised. Admittedly there had been a few problems back in Winterfell when he was questioned about his disappearances but he felt confident that things could now be arranged to ensure far easier visits for the pair of them. Two ruling Dragons fully able to explore and take advantage of the Doors, much as Rhaegar had with his bases here at King’s Landing, as well as at Dragonstone and Summerhall.

Dany had briefly mentioned the things she’d recently learnt about her brother and his time travelling, although Jon realised now that she hadn’t told him very much about the details of her recent visit to him. There really had been so little time with the battle of the Wall imminent and he suspected that she had deliberately skirted around the discussion because she thought he would be cross about her time travelling whilst pregnant. He winced as he thought it. It _was_ annoying that it made her ill, of course, but he had accepted that neither of them had much choice in the matter.

He should probably talk about that with her this evening. If he got a chance, of course, and if he could stay awake for long enough. Jon yawned widely as he pushed open the door to the small Dragon room here, still full of clutter, his gaze now on the Door in front of him, reaching out with his hand as he tried to to focus on Dany. He really should have just gone back to sleep but he missed her so much already and... his mind wandered again as he took hold of the ring and pushed the Door open, stepping through to Dragonstone and turning immediately left towards the corridor.

“Oh...” Jon swayed on the spot, feeling a sudden weight descend on him. “Really _so_ tired but...” He shook his head, not really taking note of his surroundings as he walked into the suite next door to Dany’s and turned left towards the door, grumbling again at how exhausted he was feeling, how heavy his legs felt. “Hold on. This isn’t right.”

The corridor was light and airy, despite being the middle of the night as far as he was concerned, and his sleepy mind was only now beginning to realise what had just happened. There were a number of elegant, small tables and chairs decorating this corridor, and the suite he had just walked through had appeared far more opulent and lived in than he was used to, even more so than when he had visited here as a boy. Jon felt a gentle tug him to his left and automatically followed it through to the living room, trying to use it to counter the very strong pull from behind that was urging him back to King’s Landing.

He automatically reached out to Dany, hoping her presence would steady him, only to freeze when he couldn’t locate her. Then he realised why and breathed out.

“Wrong time … She’s not here.” He took in a large gulp of air to steady himself. “So, who am I sensing?”

Jon tried hard to focus and push the exhaustion to one side, now made worse for having apparently just travelled in time too. He followed the slightly familiar pull into the living room and placed a hand on the door frame, gasping as he realised how very different these chambers appeared to him now. Then he felt the faint tug forwards as the door to what had once been Viserys’ chambers opened and Jon felt a sudden fear from his childhood as the tall, silver haired young man stepped out and he recalled the numerous less than pleasant encounters with Dany’s younger brother.

“ _You have spirit, I’ll give you that, boy, but you need learn your place in this castle. Don’t think I don’t know what you are.”_

But this was not Viserys, and Jon groaned as he finally worked out what had happened and who he had ended up visiting.

“Who are you?” Rhaegar asked.

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, skimming the two battles a bit because, as I've said before, this fic has never really been about that.  This final act is all about rounding off the Door plot and tying up the loose time threads.
> 
> These last couple of weeks have been so hectic that I'm almost looking forward to getting back to work for a bit of a break! Almost.  Hopefully after the last family gathering this evening things can start to return to normal and I can finally start writing, planning reading again (barely had time to edit). Thank goodness I got myself quite so far ahead during November and early December.
> 
> In fact it's been quite odd editing the sections about Jon's exhaustion these last couple of days as I've felt much the same, even if Jon and Dany have had a far harder job than just housework, cooking and socialising!
> 
> Happy New Year to you all. 


	33. Chapter 33

**Jon XXXIII**

**Dragonstone**

Jon stared at Rhaegar, his heart racing as he tried to get his foggy mind to focus. He had meant to cross over to Dany tonight but now realised his mind had wandered as he opened the Door, thinking about his wife’s last visit to her brother as well as his earlier conversation with Tyrion when he had been asked how much he wanted to share about his parentage. That was definitely something to remember for the next time.

“Who are you?”

Jon froze, surprised at the question, until he realised that this was obviously happening _before_ his father visited him at Winterfell.

“I came to see you,” he replied cautiously. “I’m still learning about the Doors and trying to figure out how to control my visits to the past.”

Rhaegar’s suspicious look immediately brightened. “You’re a Dragon? I can feel the pull now. Sorry, your hair colour confused me but … you’re obviously Targaryen if you can use the Dragon Doors.”

Jon couldn’t help but wince at this, even as he nodded to confirm Rhaegar’s correct guess. “Yes,” he replied, attempting to hide his usual northern way of speaking.

“So, dark hair and … I now see something familiar in your looks so...” He gasped then, his eyes widening. “Are you …? Are you my son?”

Jon nodded again. “I am.”

Rhaegar’s face broke into a huge smile. “It is true then. My children are destined to be Dragons. I will have three, yes?”

‘ _I will have.’_ So, what year was this?

“Should you be asking me all these questions about your future?” Jon asked.

Rhaegar laughed. “How can I not? How can I not want to hear of your siblings and my brother and how the Targaryens are faring.”

Jon had never been more grateful for his ability to keep his emotions hidden, willing his sleepy mind to focus as he again took note of how young Rhaegar looked here and wondered what he should be discussing at this point in time. He could only hope that his father was not able to read him as well as Dany could nowadays, but how could he even begin to answer those particular questions?

“All I will say for now is that I married another Targaryen and we are very much in love.” Jon replied. “We are both Dragons and learning how to use the Doors fully. You visit us in your future and so … I thought to try and visit you. To find out a little more about our past.”

Rhaegar was frowning now, moving closer, studying Jon in a way that made him feel especially uncomfortable.

“You’ve Elia’s hair colour but not her build. I can see myself in you easily enough but... there’s someone else you’re reminding me of.”

Jon shook his head. “I don’t think I should answer that.” The pull was getting uncomfortable now, his exhaustion not helping matters, even if he was grateful for the large, late supper he had eaten that evening.

“But can you confirm that I will have three children?” Rhaegar asked.

Jon winced again but reluctantly nodded his head, again forcing himself away from his customary northern inflection. “Yes.”

“All Dragons?”

“No.”

“So, just the two of you then?” Rhaegar shook his head. “No, but that can’t be right. There _must_ be three.”

Jon had no idea how to respond to that. “I … I am so pleased to have met you,” he said instead, “and there are so many questions I want to ask too but I don’t think I will be able to stay here much longer.”

“I understand. Travelling through time is not easy.”

“Can you tell me what year this is?”

“The very end of 281.”

Jon nodded, trying to recall his history. “So after the Tourney of Harrenhal?”

“Yes.” Rhaegar winced. “I imagine you have questions about that?”

Jon pulled a face. “I assume you had your reasons?”

“I did, although I admit that I had no idea it would be taken in such a way and now … now things are moving so fast. I thought … _We_ thought...” He sighed. “It’s too late now. I just have to work hard to make sure everyone understands.”

“I would tell you … warn you about what’s to come but...” Jon swayed as he tried to remember what Bran had said. “I think it _is_ too late now. I’m not sure those events _can_ be changed.” And did he even want them to? If Rhaegar now took steps to avoid certain things, might that mean that Jon wouldn’t even be born? He groaned as he tried to get his head around the idea. “You should perhaps try a little harder to make everyone understand why you did it?” That wouldn’t cause any major problems, would it? “I … I really shouldn’t have visited right now. I’m far too tired for all of this.”

“Well, as Aemon keeps telling me, we generally don’t have a choice in these matters.”

“We’ve been told the same but...” Jon shook his head as he felt an urgent tug from the Door. “I think I have to go.” He turned to head back towards the corridor, swaying slightly. Looking back over his shoulder at Rhaegar Targaryen and trying to deal with the sudden surge of emotions he was now experiencing. “Goodbye... Father. You will definitely see me again, I promise.”

Although Jon had no idea if he would ever have further visits to Rhaegar.

~o~0~o~

Jon fell through the Door, collapsing onto his knees in the small room on the other side and then attempting to stand by using the stacked chairs and boxes to help pull him up. Unfortunately, all he ended up doing was dragging everything down with him, groaning as he fell back onto the floor, curling into a ball to protect himself as the room appeared to spin. When he started to rise for a second time it was to find Davos standing at the doorway to the corridor, his mouth open in shock.

“What…? What are you doing in here, Jon? I heard this crash and then …?”

“I’m … just...” Jon groaned as everything started to spin again, staggering forward to rest his hands on the door frame, confident that that, at least, would not be moving any time soon.

“This is how you were at Winterfell,” Davos realised. “Leaning on the wall and feeling ill.” Jon looked up to find his Hand starting over his shoulder, blinking in surprise. “Right next to an identical looking door-” Davos ignored Jon completely and moved forward, taking hold of the ring and first pushing and then pulling. “-which also doesn’t open.”

Jon sighed and attempted to stand up by himself, waiting until everything stopped spinning before slowly walking towards Davos.

“That Lannister soldier was right,” he said. “I _have_ been using magic.”

“So, you’re telling me you _are_ a warlock?”

He managed a weak laugh. “No. Just a Targaryen taking advantage of an enchantment that has been here for … a very long time.”

He took hold of the ring and pushed the Door open, this time seeing the usual sparsely decorated reception room in front of him and feeling the clear and unmistakable pull of Dany to his left. It was a shame he had made that mistake earlier and now had no strength left to visit her tonight.

“What is that?” Davos asked, gaping at what was probably no more than a strange mist to him. “And how did you manage to open that door when I couldn’t?”

“Targaryen magic as I said.”

“This is how you kept disappearing in Winterfell? You stepped through to … where? Not here, surely?”

“Dragonstone,” Jon mumbled, as he moved back into the small room. “All Doors lead to Dragonstone.” His Hand was still staring at the now closed Door, his mouth slightly open. “Could you help me back to my chambers, Davos and I’ll try and answer some more of your questions then.”

“And this magic … Is this why you’re always so tired?” He shook his head. “No, I’m sure that’s not right. I’m sure you’ve only been this bad once or twice before.”

“Usually it’s easy. Depends on … a few things.” Davos threw Jon’s arm over his shoulder and the younger man allowed himself to be lead back to the bed-chambers. “Shouldn’t have attempted it tonight but I...”

“What?” Davos asked gently.

“I missed her.”

“Daenerys?” Jon nodded. “How long have you been able to do this?”

He took a deep breath. “Since I was five.”

Another pause as his Hand made the calculations. “When your wife was living on Dragonstone?”

“Aye.”

Davos paused as they entered the chambers. “You moved your bed.”

He nodded. “Thought it best.”

“Why?” Jon simply shook his head, allowing himself to fall onto the bed with a loud groan. When he didn’t reply, Davos asked a different question. “And so that soldier who said he recognised you?”

“He did. I _was_ there … after a fashion.” Did he really want to get into the time travelling discussion right now. “I’m sorry, Davos. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you and I’m sorry I can’t tell you more right now. Just so very … very … tired.”

“Fine,” his Hand said, sternly. “You sleep then. But don’t think for a moment that this is the end of the conversation.”

“I am your king, you know?” Jon slurred half-heartedly.

“Don’t think for a moment that this is the end of the conversation, Your Grace,” Davos said, chuckling. Jon tried to laugh too but the exhaustion finally took over and quickly pulled him down into a deep, dreamless sleep.

~o~0~o~

**Dany XXXIII**

**Dragonstone**

Dany felt the unmistakable pull from the Door in the middle of the night and snuggled down deeper under the furs in her bed, excited about the prospect of Jon joining her soon. Then she fell asleep again, waking some time later to realise that he had still not arrived and briefly wondering if she had dreamt the sensation. She got out of bed and wrapped herself up in the usual cloak noting, with relief, that she felt very much better after these couple of days spent on Dragonstone, before heading down the corridor towards Rhaenys’ old suite and the Dragon Door there which lead to King’s Landing.

“Jon?” she whispered as she pressed her palm against the dark wood. “What happened?”

She could feel his faint presence on the other side. He was probably asleep in bed, which was fair enough at this time of night, except that she was _sure_ he had been about to come through earlier. She debated returning to the warmth of her bed but knew she would only worry if she didn’t try to find out what had happened. So, with a loud sigh, she moved to the mirror and fished out the dark scarf she always kept in this cloak, making sure her hair was fully covered before returning to the small Dragon room and stepping through the Door.

~o~0~o~

**King’s Landing**

The neatly stacked chairs and boxes in this small room had been disturbed, making it hard for Dany to pick her way towards the outer door. Her heart started to pound then, suddenly fearful about what might have happened here to cause such disarray, slowly peering out into the corridor to check it was clear before scurrying quietly towards the royal bed chambers.

She headed automatically towards the bed only to find it had gone and then looked around, confused, squinting in the dark before discovering it on the other side of the room, now far closer to the southern wall. Jon was fast asleep and snoring as she reached it, a newly lit candle by his bedside along with a fresh tray of food and drink. Her stomach rumbled at the sight and she grabbed a little bread to nibble before dropping her cloak on the pillow and burying herself under the covers to snuggle up against her husband.

“Hmm? Dany?”

“I’m here, my love. Sorry to wake you but I was worried.”

“Meant to visit you. Sorry. Made a mistake.” He still sounded half asleep but turned over to face her, sighing deeply as he pulled her close. “I missed you _so_ much.”

“What happened?”

“Went back in time by mistake and then stumbled into Davos when I returned and ended up telling him everything.”

“Davos? All right … That’s fine. He was beginning to suspect anyway.”

“Aye.”

“When did you visit?”

“281,” he mumbled. “Rhaegar.”

She gasped. “Really?”

He opened his eyes and smiled weakly at her. “I suppose I’d better tell you before I forget or before you fall asleep and leave.” He looked up then. “Is that food?”

“Yes, I wondered why it was there. I imagine you’re hungry after that trip?”

He nodded, sitting up and accepting the tray, happily tucking in. “Had a fairly decent supper, fortunately. Unfortunately I am just so tired that my mind really hasn’t been working right.”

“Well I feel very much better now,” she told him, “so perhaps it’s time for us to swap?”

“I feel like I should complain about that but, honestly, I can’t wait to be there and sleeping and for you to be here and ruling competently.”

“Stop that, Jon, you’re a wonderful leader.”

“Huh. Might be a better one once I’ve had some proper rest.”

“So, tell me about your visit,” she pushed. “281 you said. That was before you were born?”

“Aye but, more importantly, I think it was before Aegon was born.”

“That would make sense. Do you think that’s significant?”

“I’m not sure. We need to … draw it out, perhaps? Try and look at all three conversations and see how everything we told Rhaegar would appear from his point of view.”

“So this was actually the first visit?”

“As far as Rhaegar was concerned, yes. He didn’t know who I was. Although he guessed.”

“Which is what he told you during his visit to you.”

Jon groaned. “I’m not certain but I think … I think now I’m starting to understand his confusion. He said before that he had made a mistake and I realise now that I encouraged that. He thought I was Elia’s son. He thought I was Aegon.”

“You mean … _that’s_ why your names are the same?”

“Yes...” Jon frowned, shaking his head. “No, that can’t be right because, by the time Lyanna was pregnant with me he must have realised his mistake.”

“Something about a baby’s hair colour?”

“That it often changes when very young, yes. Mine definitely used to be lighter.”

“Really? I only ever remember it being dark.”

“I mean when I was a _very_ small child – two, three? Before I met you. And then it was only ever light brown.” He chuckled. “Gods, if my hair had turned out silver then Eddard wouldn’t have been able to claim me as his, would he?”

She reached up to run her fingers through his curls. “Your dark hair saved your life then. Your mother’s hair.”

He nodded, blinking, perhaps a little tearful at the thought. “So, Rhaegar has a young, dark haired daughter and then meets an adult son with dark hair from the future – probably whilst Elia is pregnant with Aegon.”

“So he assumes that _you’re_ Aegon.”

Jon sighed, his hand moving down to stroke her stomach. “Just as we’ve been assuming that this one is Lyanna.”

“Of course. When it could just as easily be one of the dragon riders.”

Jon nodded. “Then he has a boy, and Aegon’s hair might not have been obviously silver back then, so he just assumed it was me. And do we know how much time he _really_ spent with Elia and her children after that?”

“No.” Dany sighed. “He was already chasing prophecy by then, I think. Using the Doors, visiting various castles, talking things through with Aemon.”

“Arranging meetings with my mother.” Jon shook his head. “He started to apologise for Harrenhal, implying he had some good reason, some grand idea of what would happen there which went wrong and that he fully intended to clear any misunderstandings up at a later date.”

“Perhaps something to do with his attempt to overthrown my father?”

Jon sighed. “Perhaps.”

“And he was confused when he first met me too,” Dany recalled. “He kept calling me Visenya, assuming that _I_ was his third child.”

“Aegon and his two sister wives,” Jon said, pulling a face. “You didn’t correct him?”

“I tried to but … it was all just so confusing as you know. And really hard to concentrate when the pull from the Door was so strong. I did tell him that I was pregnant though.”

Jon nodded. “Which he mentioned during his first visit to me, although I didn’t exactly latch onto his comment about grandchildren at the time.”

“More than one?” she asked.

“Aye, although I said nothing about that to him today. Why would I when I only really know about Lyanna for certain.”

“I still can’t see why he would have named you Aegon _after_ your brother had already been born. Even if he had realised that you were a Dragon and he wasn’t. Why would he be that stubborn about giving you that particular name?”

“You’re right,” Jon agreed. “That bit doesn’t make sense but at least we have some idea about the confusion he was talking about.” He yawned. “Hopefully we’ll have more time for this now, Dany. To recall what was said in all three conversations and try to make more sense of it?”

“Hopefully.”

“But I think the rest will have to wait until I’m more awake.” He leant forwards and kissed her gently. “Stay with me for a while?”

“Of course. Where will I end up? Oh … is that why you moved the bed?”

“Aye. Definitely can’t get you into your old room from here but Rhaegar used to sleep in Viserys’ chambers so you should end up in there.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad now you put it like that.”

“Hmm, that’s what I thought. I also thought we could clear it completely, put in a nice new bed and a larger one in your old room too.” He chuckled. “Lots of comfy beds in all the chambers down there so we can visit each other, fall asleep and still wake up somewhere comfortable on the other side.”

“Sounds good,” she said, snuggling up against him. “Come back home soon, Jon and we’ll test a few of those beds out before I have to fly back to King’s Landing.”

“That sounds like a challenging and arduous job,” he mumbled sleepily, “but I’m sure we’ll cope somehow.”

~o~0~o~

**Dragonstone**

Dany was like an excited child the following morning, requesting the best pieces of furniture to be brought from the main part of the castle down to the old wing, along with various linens and other items to help make it all more comfortable. She still wanted access to the area restricted, limiting the number of people involved in the operation, deciding that only the most trusted members of her staff should be given entry to such a precious place, even though there was no danger of anyone else being able to use the magic.

Jon arrived on Rhaegal in the middle of all of this, trying to discourage her from helping, despite her telling him repeatedly that their baby was in no danger at all from her lifting a few items at this stage of her pregnancy.

It wasn’t long before the couple sent everyone else away, keen to discuss Jon’s notes, work on the maps and make a start in deciding where to place all the new furniture for the best effect. The largest beds were placed in Dany and Viserys’ old chambers – the key rooms tied to Winterfell and King’s Landing – and soon she was back at the map desk, excitedly talking about the idea of giving names to the rooms and suites here and perhaps focusing next on the best place for a bed to and from Casterly Rock.

“We can worry about that one later,” Jon said, coming up behind her and running his hands gently down her hips, pressing himself up against her so she could feel how hard he was for her. “First though we need to test out these two beds.”

She laughed, wriggling back against him. “In what way? There’s no way I’m having you fly off to Winterfell just yet.”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant at all,” he said, his hands now bunching up her dress, his fingers, starting to play with the ties of her trousers. “I only meant for us to test how comfortable they are – this one and the King’s Landing one – and then perhaps we should decide which of the others you had brought down is the next best?”

“We should test them _all_ out, of course,” she agreed, pulling away from him just enough to allow him to start sliding her trousers down, shuddering in delight as his fingers gently skirted the bare skin at her hips.

“Hmm,” he said, kissing her neck. “Just as many of those and the settees as we can tonight before you have to return to King’s Landing.” She was now naked under her dress as he pressed her back up against his front, both his hands under her skirts as his fingers first caressed the now obvious curve of her stomach before sliding slowly downwards, fingers teasing between her legs. “Which bed first, my love?”

“The new Winterfell one,” she gasped. “My old room where we first made love. The Wolf Chambers.”

“Good idea,” Jon replied, although he didn’t move at first, his hands still exploring, driving her slowly crazy.

“Jon.”

“I know,” he said, nuzzling at her neck, “It’s just … so hard to move away from you right now.”

She solved the problem for him, turning and stepping away and allowing her skirts to fall back down, watching his eyes follow her and his tongue dart out to lick his lips as they headed back to her old room.

“You like that idea, don’t you, Jon?” she teased. “That I look fully clothed but you know that I’m ready for you underneath all of this.”

He nodded. “We’ve a lot of new surfaces to try out so why don’t you just lie down on the bed like that and I’ll make a start.”

“Good idea,” she replied, kneeling up on the bed and sliding her own hand under her skirts. “Drop your trousers Jon and take me here quickly. Then we can continue next door.”

She started to play with herself and smirked as she noticed Jon’s jaw drop at the sight. Then he quickly removed his cloak and untied his own trousers, exposing himself to her whilst he stroked, moving closer as he continued to watch her with great interest.

“I thought you wanted _this_ , Dany,” he said taking one more step towards her. “Can’t give it to you if you stay all the way over there.”

She laughed then, sitting down on the edge of the bed and opening her legs for him.

“This bed is quite a bit higher than my previous one,” she decided. “I think that could be quite useful here, don’t you?”

He growled, striding over to her and lifting her legs around his hips and Dany’s laugh quickly turned into a squeak as the action made her fall backwards onto the bed. Jon touched her only briefly – obviously checking that she really _was_ ready – before grabbing under her thighs and pulling her closer to to edge so he could push himself inside her. She cried out as she lifted her hips to meet him, not at all bothered by the slight discomfort as he took her, his fingers inevitably sliding up her leg to pleasure her, driving her quickly close to the edge before he stopped abruptly and pulled out.

“Jon … what?”

“Now for the bed in the Crown Chambers,” he said, stepping out of his trousers and holding his hand out to her, pulling her to her feet and then dragging her across to Viserys’ old room. “Let’s compare.”

And, once there, he pushed her back into a similar position and entered her again, thrusting a few more times before pulling out once more.

“I hate you!” she complained.

“But _I_ haven’t tried the beds out yet,” he whined. “You wouldn’t begrudge me that, would you?” And he pulled her to her feet only to swap places and lie down on his back, still naked from the waist down, shifting his hips in such a way to tempt her to approach. “Your turn to ride _me_ , my dragon queen. _If_ you think you’re up for it.”

Dany couldn’t get up onto the bed quickly enough, throwing one leg over his slim hips and dropping down on him abruptly, pleased for the chance to dictate things. As Jon groaned and dropped his head back on the pillow she forgot about her own pleasure and sped up, remembering that her husband was exhausted after everything that had happened recently and keen to look after him for a change.

“Hold on,” he gasped, his hands moving to her waist to still her. “I’ve not tried out the other bed properly.”

“Jon!” she complained. “You’re tired. Let me finish you off and then you can sleep for a bit.”

“In the Wolf Chambers,” he said stubbornly, smirking at her complaint as he lifted her off and quickly walked out the door, giving her a delightful view of his rear as he left.

When she entered her old bedchamber it was to find Jon in a similar position but now totally naked on top of the covers. “What kept you?” he asked. “Hurry up, I’m getting cold like this.”

She laughed, also stripping completely, despite the low temperature, jumping back onto the bed and straddling him again, both of them now so close that they finished very quickly, half-gasping, half-laughing as she rolled off him and collapsed by his side.

“Well?” she asked as they inelegantly scrambled to get under the covers.

“This bed is definitely more comfortable,” he mumbled, already close to sleep by the time she had nestled herself against his shoulder as usual. “Let’s make this our room as you suggested, although I’m happy enough to try them both again tomorrow morning if you like?”

“Only if you get a decent night’s sleep,” she replied.

“And you,” he mumbled, pulling her closer. “You’re the one who has to head back to King’s Landing.”

“But not until tomorrow,” she said. “Plenty of time to try out more surfaces before then.”

He chuckled, now obviously very close to falling asleep. “I look forward to continuing our experiments, my queen.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Played around with my Dragon Doors maps this week and there will now be a new one each week as Jon and Dany will be mapping out the final ones and rename all the rooms. So I've shared the cropped version this week in case you weren't sure where they were in that last scene.
> 
> So, you're getting a look at a couple of things that drove me around the twist from the very start of this planning - **The Aegon Problem** as it's been quoted in my notes since last January, plus the River Song (Doctor Who) style timeline where Rhaegar's meets Jon and Dany the 'wrong' way round. More of this to come in the final three chapters.  Check out chapter 23 for Rhaegar's visit to Jon and Ch29 for Dany's visit to Rhaegar.
> 
> Yup. Just 3 more to go and the big news is that, on Wednesday, I typed those two special words on my Doc ... The End and it's currently coming in at just under 173K words. 
> 
> I have had a few ideas for a new story floating around in my folders for a while. The most likely of these is still **The Masks We Wear**  (probable title or possibly **Who Controls The Dragon?** ) one scene of which has been written for ages - a Masquerade Ball - originally a possible one-shot for Valentine week but was put to one side in favour of the Fake Marriage prompt which became 'Charade'. Even back in February I realised that 'Masks' had the potential to be a multi-chapter. So far, so good and now I only have editing left to do on 'Prince' I should be able to focus on the planning and writing of that one a bit more. I'll let you know how it's progressing over the next few weeks.
> 
> A special thank you for those who still read and commented over the busy holiday period. Really helped me to get through all the organising I had to do. 


	34. Chapter 34

****

**Dany XXXIV**

**Dragonstone (Three Months Later)**

Dany looked at her reflection in the new bronze mirror in their Wolf bed-chambers, turning to one side as she ran her hands across her very swollen middle, a deep frown on her face.

“You look beautiful,” Jon cooed as he came up behind her, dipping his head to kiss her on the neck.

“I’m huge,” she complained as she continued to glare at her reflection. “I’m sure I was never this big with Rhaego.”

“Perhaps because you were so young then?” Jon said, moving his own hands around her, smiling brightly as he felt a firm kick. Nowadays, to Dany, it seemed as if the movements were almost continuous. “And out on the road, never keeping still.”

“I am eating a lot more now than I did then, it’s true,” she agreed. “It’s just … neither of us are especially large so-”

“-Thanks.” He seemed offended by her implication.

She winced. “I didn’t mean … sorry.”

That actually _was_ the main reason she had been surprised at how quickly she was growing. In many ways Jon was twice the man Drogo was and yet, height wise, they were worlds apart. She glanced back at the mirror and sighed again.

Jon chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. You’re gorgeous like this.”

“Easy for _you_ to say. You only have to look at it, not carry it around everywhere.”

“True enough.”

She frowned. “I saw the maester again yesterday.”

A look of panic crossed her husband’s features. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, we’re fine.” She turned to him with a smile, a hand on his cheek. “Relax. I only meant that he quizzed me about how far along I was and also commented on my size. Then he listened in and said …” She bit her lip. “He agreed with Missandei’s guess.”

Jon gasped. “Twins?”

She nodded. “He can’t be certain, but it would certainly explain … this … seeing it’s not even half a year since our wedding.”

His hand had found her stomach again. “Twins,” he breathed.

“It would explain the almost constant kicking too,” she said, turning back to the table. “They’re obviously taking it in turns.” She picked up the latest copy of their Dragon Doors map. “So, where to next?”

In-between flying back and forth to King’s Landing, the royal couple had been scheduling time to work on their Dragon Door map, with Dany flying to a castle and Jon then stepping through so they could discover the new Door’s location. They now had most confirmed and the few remaining ones were becoming more obvious simply through a process of elimination.

“Are you _sure_ we should continue with this?” Jon asked. “We’ve got most of the places guessed by now, after all.”

“All except _this_ one,” she complained, pointing the large question mark on the parchment in front of her.

“Except that one,” Jon agreed. “So perhaps you could just take a break here now. Restrict your flying to essential King’s Landing trips?”

“You’re fussing again.”

“I know. I can’t help it.”

He moved closer to kiss her, his hand quickly resting against her stomach again. Dany suspected that Jon would walk around with his palm pressed against her bump all day if she let him and yet, despite thinking she should be annoyed by his obsession with her shape, Dany had to admit that his possessiveness quietly thrilled her.

“You know Drogon wouldn’t allow any harm to come to us,” she said.

“I know.” He looked back down at the map. “But it’s also a matter of time too because I really do need to fly up to Winterfell soon.”

“Just a quick flight to confirm this last north-westerly Door, Jon and then you can go and visit. I promise it won’t take long.”

~o~0~o~

She missed Jon terribly and he had only left for Winterfell a couple of days ago. Dany paced the living room in the middle of the night with a large sigh, fighting with her promise to her husband not to deliberately use the Doors, even if both had acknowledged that certain visits were likely to be inevitable. But how could she tell the difference? How could she decide if this longing was simply her current overwrought emotions pining for Jon, or the strange Dragon magic urging her to travel to fulfil some preordained thread in its tapestry.

She was under strict instructions to eat regularly, both for the babies and for any accidental trips through time, and at least that was now possible since reaching the end of her pregnancy sickness.

“As if I wasn’t fat enough already,” Dany grumbled as she tucked into a generous portion of food that Missandei had left for her breakfast.

The pull to Winterfell increased and she moved closer, a hand on the Door as she decided that her husband was in his room in the First Keep, grumbling under her breath at the thought of him having fallen asleep already.

“I’ll blame it on you then, Jon” she said, as she moved a hand to grab at the ring on the Door. “If you had visited me as promised then I would have had no need to do this.”

And she pushed open the Door and stepped through.

~o~0~o~

**Winterfell**

She realised her mistake immediately. The sudden heavy weight of time pulling at her and causing the babies to wriggle alarmingly. Dany gasped and started to head back home only to pause – one hand held out – as a memory tugged at her. Of how Jon had discovered she was pregnant before she had even known it herself. Then she looked down at her dramatically protruding stomach and it all suddenly fell into place.

“Oh. I’m supposed to be here.”

She took a few deep breaths as she waited for everything to steady, one hand on her stomach as she tried to recall what she knew of that visit. Jon had never discussed it in detail, both because he was keeping the news from her at the time and because there had been so much else going on back then. She nodded as she finally got the timing straight in her head and recalled that this was the day after they had both first managed to travel in time. Her younger self was already unknowingly pregnant and recovering after visiting her husband as a boy, and Jon was also struggling after he had gone back to talk to her a few months prior.

“Ugh, I hate time travel,” she complained, moving quietly to her husband’s old chambers and pushing open the door.

Jon didn’t stir as she sat next to his bed to light a candle and Dany waited for a moment before waking him, looking around the room and noting the differences with interest. Just as at Dragonstone, she and Jon had refurbished these modest chambers until they had become almost as comfortable as their official rooms in the Great Keep and she pulled a face as she took note of this old, tatty version. A small tug from behind and another kick in her belly reminded her that she could not stay here for much longer and so she leant forwards to stroke gentle fingers through her husband’s curls, comparing this slightly heavier beard and shorter hair with his current style now he had started to acknowledge his Targaryen heritage.

“Jon?” she whispered.

He sighed deeply and rolled over, his eyes still closed but with a soppy smile across his face as he stretched.

“Morning, Love,” he mumbled. “Why don’t you come under the covers?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that, biting back the response that there wouldn’t be enough room in this small, old bed for her now. “I think you’re a bit too tired for that, don’t you?” she said instead.

“Perhaps a little.” His stomach rumbled.

“And you forgot to eat, didn’t you?”

“I had something last night.” He opened his eyes then and she dropped her own gaze to confirm that, from his current position, he would be unable to see her stomach. “You are _so_ beautiful.”

His quiet declaration had her insides clenching and a familiar tingle start between her legs. “As are you,” she replied, managing to bend down just enough to kiss his forehead. “Despite the bags under your eyes. What _have_ you been up to?”

She was amused by his sudden enthusiasm, as his sleepiness briefly vanished and his eyes widened with excitement. “I did it, Dany. I travelled back to the past.”

“Congratulations,” she replied, trying to keep a straight face. “Who did you visit and when?”

“You. Not that long ago, actually. I’m not sure if you even realised it. It couldn’t have been long after we were first reunited.” He frowned as he took a note of her expression. “What’s so funny?”

“That’s the problem at our age,” she replied. “It’s just so hard to tell a few months here or there. Easy enough to mistake a visit from the future with one from the present.”

He frowned again as he started to understand that something was a little unusual here. “What’s going on?”

“I hadn’t meant to come over now,” she told him, “but it’s as Bran said. Sometimes we’re just fated to visit at a certain time and there’s nothing to be done about it.” She sighed, thinking again about the promise she had made him. “You are going to be _so_ cross with me when you find out.”

“About what? I could never be cross with you.”

He didn’t understand, of course. “Only when you’re worried about me.”

She was quite unable to resist leaning forwards for another kiss but had forgotten that _this_ Jon had no idea of her condition and did not need to be bullied into showing his more aggressive side. Before Dany knew what was happening, his hands were on the back of her head pulling her forwards, his lips now kissing her greedily as he started to pull at the furs, obviously intending to drag her down under the covers with him. The sudden move pushed her stomach up against the bed and she gasped at the pressure as the babies objected to such rough treatment.

Jon quickly released her, aware of her discomfort even in his current state.

“What is it? Are you not well? Did you not fly down to the camp today?”

“I wasn’t able to manage that for a couple of days,” she replied. “In fact, I’m actually fast asleep next door right now. My own first go at time travel was even more exhausting than yours.”

“What?”

She smiled at his confusion. “I’d tease you for being so slow but, seeing what you’ve been through these last few days, I can hardly blame you.” He had also only just discovered that Rhaegar was his father, she remembered. “And, I’m sorry, my love, but I’m afraid you’re going to have one more shock to add to everything else you’ve had to deal with recently.”

She saw a sudden light of realisation flash across his dark eyes. “You’re … you’re visiting me from the future?”

“Yes.”

“From when?”

“About … four months time? Around that.”

“How is it going?” he asked immediately. “The war preparations? King’s Landing? What do I need to know?”

Dany frowned, resisting the urge to tell him it was all over both in the north and the south but that, she realised, was _not_ the news she had to impart today. “Firstly, you must remember to eat well before you travel to a different time. It’ll help you to cope better. That’ll be especially important if you have to end up _fighting_ whilst you’re there?”

He nodded firmly, understanding that she was preparing him for his rescue of her during the Baratheon attack. “Thank you. I’ll remember that.”

“Secondly, you need to ask Bran about his visions,” she continued. “Specifically about what he thinks is wrong with them.”

“Wrong?”

She nodded, frowning as she tried to get her brain to remember what Jon had told her about this conversation all those months ago. “You know how he is? Unless you direct him he won’t fully understand what is important. Certain visions he had about the future are no longer coming to pass and he doesn’t know why. You need to ask him about it. You all need to understand what’s going on.”

“You can’t tell me?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that, I’m afraid.”

“That’s what Bran said.”

She wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to laugh or groan. “I know. I was there too if you remember?”

“Ugh!” she said, dropping his head back onto the pillows. “It is all so confusing.”

“You have no idea.” A strong pull from the Door was accompanied by an even stronger kick and she couldn’t help but react to it, causing Jon to look back up at her, concerned. “I need to leave, Jon. Being this close to you and the Door helps to a certain extend but I really can’t risk being thrown back right now.”

“Thrown? As in what happened to me in Winter Town?”

“Yes. It was bad enough when it happened to me that first time – yesterday to you – but, right now, such a thing would be positively dangerous for me.”

She stood up then, her eyes on Jon as he slowly took note of her figure and his jaw quite obviously dropped open. It was a real effort not to laugh out loud at the sight.

“Dany … you’re … pregnant?”

She knew she was smiling now and, as the kicking continued, she bent down to take his hand in hers, pulling it to her stomach and moving it towards the strongest movement, her heart skipping at the look of shock and delight on her husband’s face. This was actually the first time he had felt a kick, despite having now experienced so many more of them in her own time. The pull was getting uncomfortable now and so she gave his hand the very briefest of caresses before moving back towards the door.

“I am very happy about this, of course,” she told him. “Excited and nervous and a bit confused about how the curse managed to be broken. However, right now, I am also extremely sore and uncomfortable.” She looked back at him once more, savouring the look on her husband’s face. Enjoying the fact that _he_ was now the one in shock about her pregnancy rather than the other way around.

“Look at what you’ve done to me, Jon. All of _this_ is entirely your fault.”

~o~0~o~

**Jon XXXIV**

**Winterfell**

“You’ve been avoiding me, Arya.”

His sister turned around quickly, hand automatically grabbing her dagger’s hilt and Jon’s lips twitched, amused that he had actually managed to sneak up on _her_ for once.

“I … I thought you might be cross with me.”

“It might have been nice to get a little warning about that stunt you pulled in King’s Landing, I admit,” he replied. “But I was thinking about suggesting it anyway.”

She scoffed. “I’m not sure I entirely believe that.”

He shrugged. “I was perhaps going to ask that you … subdued and imprisoned Cersei rather than murder her but, yes, I was starting to realise that we had very few alternatives left open to us.”

“She was executed,” Arya replied imperiously, folding her arms. “For all her numerous crimes against House Stark and the realm in general. Just as you did for Littlefinger.”

“We did actually have a trial for Lord Baelish beforehand if you remember?”

“Well then, you should have come to me earlier,” she retorted. “I might have considered such a thing although, with her holed up in that keep, even gaining access was a challenge.”

“I’m sure.”

“So you’re not cross with me?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not. Although I may just be a little bit scared of you.”

She laughed. “Oh I don’t believe that for a moment, Jon. I know full well how much you like strong willed women. Married one of the strongest, I think.”

“She definitely gives you a run for your money,” he agreed. “Does Gendry know exactly what he’s letting himself in for, I wonder?” He smirked as he saw surprise and panic briefly cross her face on hearing the name.

“W-what?”

“Because Dany and I fully intend to legitimise him as a Baratheon and gift him Storm’s End.”

She frowned, shaking her head. “I never wanted to be a lady of a hold-fast.”

“I don’t think there are any rules that say ladies _have_ to sew and tend to the household all day,” Jon replied, still enjoying having caught his little sister off guard. “I’m sure the new lady of Storm’s End could do what I do and assist the training in the barracks for much of the day, just as I’m sure the new lord of Storm’s End will probably want to spend large amounts of his time in the castle smithy.”

“We can just do that then. No need to throw titles at us.”

“Aha! So you _do_ want to marry him.”

She glared at him. “I hate you.”

Jon laughed. “Seriously, Arya. Daenerys and I rule the Seven Kingdoms but I’m currently here and she’s in Dragonstone. Who do you think is _actually_ doing most of the decision making right now?”

“Tyrion and Varys?”

“And Davos and scores of other advisors, along with servants and soldiers and cooks all making sure that all of our castles run smoothly. In the end the title really is just that. Names don’t define us in that regard.”

She nodded. “Fair enough. Talking of names. You called your wife ‘Dany’ just now. I’ve noticed you doing that a few times now.”

Jon winced. “Yes, I really should try and keep it more formal.”

She smirked at him. “You mean, instead of calling her the name of your childhood friend who looks _exactly_ like her?”

He shook his head. “Daenerys spent her childhood on Dragonstone and in Essos.”

“I know that, Jon but I also remember what I saw as a child. I may have been young, but it _was_ her I met in Winterfell all those years ago. I _know_ it was.”

He studied her closely for several heartbeats before finally nodding. “Then you should come to see me at the First Keep after supper tonight and I’ll let you in on our secret.”

Arya suddenly grinned brightly, reminding him of the small child he had always adored. “Did I ever tell you that you’re my very favourite brother?”

~o~0~o~

**Dragonstone**

Jon simply sighed when Dany confessed her latest time travelling visit, kissing her on the head before looking her up and down again, smiling slightly as he ran his hands over her abdomen and recalled the first time he had seen her at this size.

“It’s been such a gradual thing seeing you growing,” he told her. “Although ...” He shook his head. “… you definitely _are_ growing more and more each time I see you.”

She hit him gently on the arm. “Stop telling me I’m fat all the time.”

He pulled her close - or at least as close as he was able now - learning down to kiss her on the lips. “You’re not fat, just pregnant and _growing_ more beautiful every day.”

She pulled away with a shake of the head. “Barely half a year gone, Jon and look at me.” She took one look at the smirk on his face and hit him again. “Stop it.”

“Why don’t you take your clothes off, Love and then I can take a _proper_ look.”

“Seriously? We have things to do.”

“Tomorrow,” he replied. “Right now though, the only item I’m interested in is you, naked in one of our many beds.”

~o~0~o~

She had flown to King’s Landing the following morning, commenting that it was actually easier to climb up onto Drogon then it was to get out of bed in the morning. They had not yet discussed the next few months, but Jon suspected that Dany understood things were set to get quickly more difficult for her and wanted to spend as much time in the air and at the capital as possible before being effectively grounded. There seemed to be little doubt now that she was carrying twins and that was likely to be especially challenging for her on her tiny frame.

Dany had already decided that she wanted to give birth at Dragonstone and Jon knew that that meant he would have to spend much of _his_ time in King’s Landing from now on. Sometimes he wished they could just be husband and wife with no reason for them to regularly fly across the realm or spend large parts of their day making decisions that would affect millions of people. For now though, Jon went about what was a typical day for him at Dragonstone, training and dealing with military issues in the morning and attending meetings with those who were here working on the island with him in the afternoons.

The evenings, however, belonged to him and Dany and, every night, Jon would go down to the old wing with firm instructions given to not be disturbed unless in an absolute emergency. Missandei was now based here whilst Davos remained in King’s Landing and both these advisors now knew about the Doors and understood when to call on the monarchs and how to divert anyone’s attention if they weren’t to be immediately found. Jon stepped over to King’s Landing at the agreed time that evening, the area around the Doors now carefully managed to allow them some privacy for their nightly visits. He wasn’t planning on staying for long though, happily accepting his wife’s embrace as she lead him to the desk to exchange news, her brow furrowed and her manner restless.

“What is it, my love?” he asked.

“I need you to do something for me when you’re next here,” she said. “You and Davos too if you need help. I certainly wouldn’t ask him to attempt it on his own.”

“Anything,” he replied promptly.

“You need to clean out the small Dragon room here. Not sure how we might want to furnish it but I don’t suppose that matters right now.”

“All right, but why?”

“Because it’s a mess!” she replied harshly.

Jon gaped at her before nodding very gently. “Ah … right?”

“Well it is,” she continued more quietly. “And I really don’t want to ask the servants to clear it even if it’s not likely to raise suspicions from those who can’t use the Door.”

“Is it really that much of a problem?” Jon asked before almost immediately holding up his hands as Dany glared at him. “But I’ll tidy it up next time I’m here, I promise.”

“Good,” she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards their bed-chambers. “Now come and mess _me_ up before you return home.”

~o~0~o~

Sleep had eluded Jon ever since he had returned to Dragonstone and that night was no exception. After a while he gave up and decided to walk around the Dragon Wing, nibbling at his leftover supper as he mulled over a few of the issues he and Dany had discussed earlier, trying to ignore the insistent pull from across the corridor.

He moved further east towards the Pentos Door, debating returning to their old, official chambers in order to avoid the distraction of being down here. However, they had already started to settle in this wing, giving names to the rooms and suites and making plans for their future lives here. The best furniture had already been moved down and they were even making plans to bring items over from King’s Landing too, including a couple of beautiful cradles they had discovered there. Dany was even talking of flying over to Essos to bring exotic furniture from across the Narrow Sea.

They currently spent their time moving between the Wolf and Crown bed-chambers – as they now called Dany and Viserys’ old rooms – feeling they should chose the larger one but having a sentimental attachment to the Wolf Chambers and debating keeping it for themselves. Just the thought of the birth and about being a father caused a now familiar sensation of both fear and excitement to flutter inside Jon, as he tried to put aside all the years of denying himself that dream – of trying to remember that he was _not_ a bastard and that his children would grow up happy and named with _both_ their parents around to love them. He clung onto that memory of that night in Castle Black. Of seeing Dany with her hair even paler, her familiar, kind eyes gazing at him, and willing that to be a reality. For her to _really_ live that long.

He was standing by that very Door before he realised it, suddenly acknowledging a faint pull and instantly wondering at it. Logically there was only one person he _could_ be sensing here, assuming that their guesses had been correct and that they were unable to visit themselves? So far that appeared to be the case which Jon decided was a relief. Meeting himself might just be a bit too much to cope with.

He removed his glove to get a better sense of the threads, now becoming more accustomed to the sensation and allowing the Door to dictate the journey he was about to take rather than the other way around. He waited for a moment until one thread flared brightly under his hand and then grabbed at it, pulling the Door open and stepping through to the darkness of the maester’s chambers beyond.

~o~0~o~

**Castle Black**

“Daenerys? Is that you?”

The sound of the old man’s voice instantly brought tears to Jon’s eyes and he had to take a few deep breaths before he was able to answer calmly.

“No, Maester Aemon. It’s Jon ... Snow.” He paused briefly as he realised he did not yet know when this was or how much the old man knew.

He laughed. “You don’t seem all that certain?”

“It’s been an odd sort of year.” Had it really been so recently? “Jon Snow, Jon Targaryen, Aegon Targaryen? Who knows?”

“Aegon? Is _that_ what confused Rhaegar so much? Did he get you confused with your older brother?”

“We’re still not entirely sure but it looks that way, aye.”

“And my brother was also called Aegon, did you know?”

“I remember,” Jon said, smiling. “What’s happening here now in Castle Black? What year is it? Where am … I at the moment?”

“You left to go north of the Wall with Lord Commander Mormont a few months ago,” Aemon replied. “We received news of your visit to Craster’s Keep and your plan to meet up with Qhorin Halfhand but since then things have gone worryingly quiet. It’s been … almost a year since Daenerys last visited me and confirmed your identity and her relationship with you.”

Jon nodded. “So our visits to you at least are in the correct order.”

“Oh?”

“We seem to have ended up communicating with Rhaegar backwards. His first visit to me being my last.”

“Ah, that might explain some of the confusion he experienced then. Come closer … nephew. Let me take a look at you.” Jon swallowed back a sudden wave of emotion and moved forwards, understanding what Aemon meant and settling himself down on the chair by the side of the old man’s bed so he could raise his hands to his face. “A young man still but with a few scars picked up along the way?”

“Aye. At times though I admit I don’t feel that young.”

“Wait until _you_ reach the age of one hundred and then come back to me about that.”

Jon laughed. “How nice to think that I actually could.”

“Possibly,” Aemon said, “although it becomes hard to travel a long way forwards and back, and harder still to visit times where you do not exist.”

Jon frowned. “I did recently visit Rhaegar before I was born.”

“How long before?”

“A couple of years?”

Aemon nodded. “You have real talent then, especially for someone who is only half Targaryen. Rhaegar learnt that to his cost. Got confused at how hard it was becoming for him to visit just a handful of years into the future. Then he began to understand _why_ he found it so difficult.”

Jon sighed. “Because he was no longer alive in that time.”

“Yes.”

“Dany and I are currently attempting to finish off our map of the Doors. To confirm their location. Flying between castles so we can discover where they are and trying to get to grips with the time travel.”

“Flying? On dragons?”

“Aye. She hatched and raised three to adulthood.” Jon had forgotten that, at this point in time, such things would only have been vague rumours from across The Narrow Sea.

“Amazing. And how is your mapping progressing?”

“We’ve almost completed it now. There’s really only one Door we haven’t been able to work out.”

“What is its direction?”

“South-southwest from Dragonstone.”

Aemon nodded, smiling softly. “Do you know where you were born, Jon?”

“Dorne?”

Aemon nodded. “It is my understanding that Eddard rode to a certain tower down there looking for his sister. A place that was of great importance to Rhaegar. I heard that he left that tower and destroyed it before riding back to Winterfell with a babe who he claimed as his bastard.”

“So, it no longer exists?”

“No, so you would not be able to visit The Tower of Joy in your time, although you could perhaps do so in the past.”

Jon nodded. “That’s very helpful, Maester Aemon. Thank you.”

“Maester?” the old man asked, sounding a little offended.

“Sorry,” Jon replied, smiling. A genuine joy bubbling up inside of him. “Thank you, Uncle.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few nice scenes and surprises there for you, I think. 
> 
> When I first had the idea for including The Tower of Joy I quickly researched its exact location (for obvious reasons) and was then reminded that, in book canon, Ned had the building destroyed. Having set my heart on using it for the Doors my first reaction was to shout, "Thanks a lot, Ned!" at the computer screen! Aemon here hints at the solution to that dilemma though.
> 
> If you want to check back on Dany's visit to Jon four months prior to this, it's on chapter 24. We will be revisiting one final, early scene before the end although we still have a few more Door trips for Jon and Dany to undertake between now and the end of the story.
> 
> As I said on my Tumblr promo yesterday, choosing prompts for this new board was challenging due to spoilers so this last one  includes a few images from these last three chapters and a few of my favourites which I felt summed up this story nicely. I'm enjoying reading your guesses about the kids and their order. Thanks as ever to [the-last-targaryens](https://the-last-targaryens.tumblr.com/) who has offered a tremendous amount of support on this fic in general as well as creating such beautiful boards for me.
> 
> Stuck on my new story again this week,  perhaps due to going back to work or because this one is ending and my brain's struggling to move on. Hopefully it was just the one week and I can get back to 'Masks' now.


	35. Chapter 35

**Jon XXXV**

**Dragonstone**

Jon certainly slept deeply after his visit to Aemon but, apart from an unusual hunger when he awoke, didn’t feel seriously affected by having travelled in time. He wolfed down the usual modest breakfast left for him by Missandei before taking a trip to the kitchens to beg for more, smiling as he recalled doing something similar during those years when he had been approaching manhood.

After that it was the usual visit to the barracks and rookery before writing a few replies and attending to a number of the usual, mundane tasks. Any lingering tiredness had disappeared after eating twice as much food as he usually did in the middle of the day and, afterwards, he told Missandei he required time alone in the Dragon Wing to focus on some scrolls without distraction.

“You don’t have to give that excuse to me, you know?” she replied with a smile. “You can just tell me you are going to visit the queen.”

Jon smiled. “Aye, I know that but, in this case, I really do just want some quiet time down there. Any visit to her will be a little later this evening.”

His supper was of the more usual size and the only tiredness he felt was what he would normally expect at this time of the evening. He had told their advisor the absolute truth earlier, genuinely pleased to be in these familiar and now highly comfortable quarters as he focused on the tasks at hand.

Later he stepped out of what they were now calling the Winter Suite with the intention to head to the Spring Suite and visit Dany in King’s Landing. However, his feet lead him straight ahead before he had even realised it, across the corridor to the Summer Suite which housed the Casterly Rock Door. He honestly couldn’t say at that moment if the compulsion he felt was to do with the Dragon magic or if it was simply idle curiosity. Even since last night’s visit, Jon had found it impossible to stop thinking about The Tower of Joy – the place where he’d been born and a structure which apparently no longer existed.

Not in _this_ time, anyway. Jon moved to the Door on the left and placed a palm on the dark wood, concentrating, struggling to feel any sort of warmth in it. He moved back and forth between the two, noting far more of a response in the Casterly Rock Door, despite Dany not being on the other side of it. It was a live Door, he supposed. One that _could_ be stepped across to in this time. He guessed now that even if they could find the exact place of the tower in Dorne, it would remain impossible to cross over in the present.

But what about the past?

There was something there certainly. The faintest hints of whispers which reminded Jon of the very earliest times he had experienced similar sensations within the Winterfell Door – weeks before he had even understood what they meant. Now though he could easily sense such threads in all the live Doors and yet, in this one, they were so faint, so quiet. He leant forward and focused until his forehead was leaning on the wood, willing one to flare … for there to be _something_ he could grab onto.

Nothing.

Perhaps it was still too soon after his visit to Aemon, or maybe it was because he was not meant to cross over today. Maybe no-one would ever be able to use the Door again now it was gone in this time. After another couple of attempts Jon gave up and headed back down the corridor in order to visit his wife in the present.

~o~0~o~

**King’s Landing**

What with one thing or another Jon had kept forgetting to mention his visit to Aemon. There was always a beautiful wife to take to bed and, when they did talk afterwards, it was to discuss issues of ruling from their various, individual meetings rather than the Doors.

A few days later he flew to King’s Landing on Rhaegal and immediately took Dany to bed, again forgetting to mention what he had discovered about the Doors from Aemon. They both enjoyed these rare exchange evenings the most. Times when they were actually together in the same place, with Missandei or Davos under strict instructions not to disturb the couple except in an emergency, giving them time to catch up on their news.

This was mostly an excuse, of course, as they met via the Door most evenings anyway. In reality, it was simply an opportunity to take a very large supper together before heading to bed after a few days apart, even if they did have to be a little more creative regarding positions, now that Dany was quite so large and uncomfortable. Not that Jon would ever complain about discovering new ways to take and pleasure his wife, and he actually enjoyed the fact that many of their sessions were now interrupted by fits of giggles as they attempted to manoeuvre themselves around her beautiful, rapidly increasing curves.

He was up early the next morning, leaving his wife sleeping whilst he got on with the main job she had entrusted him with today, clearing out the small Dragon room of its clutter and trying to figure out how to furnish it.

“Ah,” Davos said, nodding sagely once he arrived and Jon tried to explain Dany’s reasoning. “Your good lady wife is getting her nest ready, I see.”

“Nest?”

“The sudden desire to clean or ensure everything is clean?”

Jon rolled his eyes. “She wants to give birth at Dragonstone so I’ve no idea why King’s Landing needs to go through this too.”

“A word of advice, lad. Be careful not to apply logic too much during these next couple of months. Her emotions are going to continue to be all over the place so I suggest you simply nod and do everything she asks of you without question.”

Jon turned to Davos surprised, the smallest smile playing on his lips. “No different from normal then.”

The man laughed loudly and slapped him firmly on the back. “Let’s make a start, shall we? I hope you don’t mind if I take out the chairs and leave the heavier items for you?”

A little later most of the room had been cleared with only one large cabinet left close to the door - the very same item that Jon had had to push away when he had first attempted to come through. Davos had left to take a short break and Jon was now waiting for his return so they could move it together. Impatient, he moved to the other side of the cabinet, leaning against the Door briefly as he tried to see just how difficult it was going to be to shift.

He felt a tingle of warmth on his back and stepped quickly away, not wanting the Door to open accidentally. To prevent that happening, Jon pulled instead, letting the ring take his full weight as he attempted to shift the piece of furniture with his back.

And then, to his absolute shock, the Door opened the wrong way - towards him - and Jon fell on floor with a gasp on he saw the brightness of the Spring suite in Dragonstone on the other side. He quickly checked over his shoulder and winced, barely pausing before curiosity got the better of him and he stepped on through.

~o~0~o~

**Dragonstone**

Jon felt the now familiar push of time as his feet touched the other side, although the sensation felt subtly different in a way he was initially unable to pinpoint. The living room here seemed brighter than usual and yet certain items of furniture were definitely familiar to him. He blinked, trying to make sense of his surroundings, but nothing he saw here quite matched up with his memories of any of the various times he had visited before.

He swayed a bit, feeling most odd, wishing he had eaten a bigger meal.

“When am I?” he wondered, acknowledging the pull from behind and instead searching for the one here. The tugs were numerous and confusing, reminding him of the battle at the Wall for some reason. At least they were all coming from the same place and Jon staggered down the corridor towards the the Winter Suite, trying to make sense of the bright, clean airiness of the place. The warmth.

“It’s summer,” he realised. “And yet ...”

He rubbed a weary hand over his face as he continued his journey forwards, the corridor still far cleaner and brighter than he remembered except for a couple of scattered items on the floor by the entrance to the Winter Suite. He headed towards the nearest one, bending down to pick it up, his heart beating hard enough for him to hear the blood pounding in his ears.

It was a small, slightly tatty, toy dragon.

“It … can’t be,” he mumbled, slowly, nervously pushing open the door to the living room.

“Papa!”

A chorus of high-pitched voices had Jon suddenly freeze in shock as Dany looked up at him from the middle of the room. Her frown turning briefly to a smile and then back again.

“Jon? We weren’t expecting you back until ...” Then sudden realisation. “Oh.”

But his attention was elsewhere. On the two, small, silver-haired children at her feet and the dark-haired one who now had her arms wrapped tightly around his leg.

“Mama said you would be gone for days,” the little girl said.

“I … There was a change of plan … Lyanna,” he managed, as four more arms wrapped themselves around his legs. Jon blinked down at the three small heads in confusion before looking up at Dany to find a sly smile playing around her lips.

“Surprise,” she said, laughing lightly at his stunned expression, before persuading the children that their father was tired and asking them to release him from their vice-like grips.

“Dany … I ...” he began, but was quite unable to find the words to continue.

“Jon,” she said, her tone now more stern as she approached him. “I don’t believe you ever told me about this visit?”

“Did I not?” She had now taken his arm and was leading him firmly back into the corridor.

“Winterfell?” she asked him, once they had moved outside.

“King’s Landing. Clearing out the Dragon room.”

“Ah right, _that_ far back. And what did I tell you about keeping secrets from your wife?”

“Something about more punishments?” Jon replied as they headed back to the Spring Suite. “I seem to remember quite enjoying it the last time.”

She laughed. “And it hardly seems fair to tell you off when I next see you all these years in the future. They were back by the King’s Landing Door now. “Well, congratulations on travelling _forwards_ in time, my love but, as Rhaegar told you, it really isn’t something you should make a habit of.”

“Was an accident.”

“Well, I guessed that. Something about _pulling_ at the Door rather than pushing?”

“Ah, I see. That makes sense.”

“Back you go, Jon and make sure you eat plenty of food. You’re going to feel really drunk when you arrive back this first time.”

He nodded dumbly, turning briefly back to her just before he left. “They’re wonderful, Dany. So very beautiful. Just like their mother.”

“I think their father had quite a bit to do with that too.” She stood up on tip-toes and kissed his cheek. “Go now, my pretty fire-wolf. Go and get some rest.”

He nodded again, automatically pulling at the Door and taking a large step back though to his own time.

~o~0~o~

**King’s Landing**

“Jon.”

He opened his eyes to find himself in bed with Dany hovering over him and blinked, confused.

“What happened?” he asked her.

“You tell me. Davos said he found you collapsed in the Dragon room by some heavy cabinet. Wasn’t sure if you had tried to move it on your own or if you’d used the Door.”

“Can’t remember,” he replied, quite truthfully in that moment, frowning as he struggled to regain his memories.

“Well, it looks like time travel to me,” Dany said, learning forward to run her fingers through his hair. “Are you hungry?” Jon nodded, trying to sit up but then groaning, unable to think of anything but the pounding in his head and the rumbling of his stomach. Dany rolled her eyes and wriggled herself awkwardly on the edge of the bed, picking up some bread and handing it to him. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Waiting for Davos to come back and help me shift that bloody thing.”

“So you _did_ try to move it?”

“I … I think so.”

“And did you go through the Door?”

A few scattered memories suddenly returned. Of a bright, sunny Dragonstone and lovely little smiles and ‘Papa’ and Dany saying, ‘I don’t believe you ever told me about this visit.’

Jon winced and took another big bite of bread in order to hide any sign of the sudden recollection.

“I’m sure it’ll come back to me in time,” he mumbled.

~o~0~o~

**Dany XXXV**

**King’s Landing**

Jon was still asleep when Dany returned to their chambers that evening. She also wanted an early night and Jon showed no signs of stirring so she simply undressed and slipped in next to him, quickly falling asleep against his back.

Her husband woke briefly as she started to get up, keen to eat some food and apologising for his uselessness. Dany had to admit that she _did_ feel frustrated that they were unable to have any meaningful discussion and that she would now have to meet with Davos and Tyrion to inform them of the slight delay to her flight to Dragonstone.

When she returned to their chambers in the afternoon her husband was sitting at the desk, again apologising whilst he continued to eat and then, finally, she was able to sit down with him and talk about what had happened.

“I forgot to tell you,” Jon began carefully, frowning deeply as he studying his hands, and Dany wondered at the pause and his apparent evasiveness. “I visited Aemon.”

“Oh ...” She still wasn’t quite sure what the issue might be here.

“It was very interesting,” he continued. “I stayed quite a long time and actually got some useful information out of the meeting.”

“That’s why it affected you so much?”

He only shrugged in reply, still frowning. “It was a bit emotional for me. Still is really. I knew he was special when I met him all those years ago, even before he told me who he was, and even though I had no idea how that might have related to me. In hindsight there _was_ a connection there – a pull – but I can’t see how I would ever have worked it out at the time.”

“I know. But you now know that _he_ knew who you were all that time.”

He smiled. “Yes and that was good. To talk with him openly and not really have any secrets.”

“As he said to me, we can relax a little when we visit him,” Dany said. “What news could we give him at the end of his life that would make any real difference?” Jon nodded, still tearful. That also perhaps explained his reluctance. “What else?”

“We talked about the Doors and Aemon gave me some indication about where that last one might have led to.”

“Oh.” She leant forwards, suddenly more interested. “Where?”

“A tower in Dorne only … it’s no longer there.”

“Really? I wonder why there would be a Door out there?”

Jon shrugged. “He only told me it was called The Tower of Joy. Perhaps it was part of an ancient, older castle. Or maybe it was always important to the Targaryens for some reason. Anyway, that was apparently where Rhaegar took my mother.” He shook his head, avoiding her gaze. “It was where I was born.”

“Oh, Jon.” His reluctance was now starting to make sense.

“Sorry, I’m still a bit tired and … It’s all a bit much. Taking so many key trips when we’ve also been fighting and ruling and preparing for the birth. I mean, why now?”

“Rather than in five years time when things are a bit more settled?” She nodded. “That would be easier, wouldn’t it?” She looked at him again. “Why don’t you rest today, Jon. I’m sure Davos can bring in anything urgent that needs signing but I should probably be getting back home, unless you really need me to stay with you?”

“Of course not.”  He looked suddenly annoyed. “And I’m fine now. Much better after that sleep. I can definitely get some work done today.” He stood up and held his arms out to her.

“All right just … take it easy,” she said as she moved into his arms, huffing a little and turning to her side, whilst he chuckled at her struggle to get close.

“I think I should be saying that to _you_ really. Fly carefully and mind those stairs.”

“Stop fussing.”

Jon’s laugh was louder then. “She kept saying that to me, you know?”

“Who?”

“Lyanna. During the battle. Whenever I showed any concern for her safety. ‘Stop fussing’. Sounded so much like you it’s a wonder I didn’t figure it out straight away.”

It sounds like our daughter experienced that from you first hand. You always have loved strong women, Jon. You’d think you would trust us to take care of ourselves.”

He nodded, holding out his hands. “You are quite right. Or perhaps, in your case, it’s just because I enjoy your punishments too much.”

She hit him gently on his arm and then reached up to kiss him on his cheek. “I can tell you are feeling better. Now, off to work with you.”

He bowed deeply. “Yes, my queen.”

~o~0~o~

**Dragonstone**

Dany occupied herself on the fairly short flight to Dragonstone by thinking through Jon’s conversation and mulling over the mysterious final Door, picturing her maps and looking forward to checking it all when she arrived home. It was only then that she realised that Jon’s story didn’t make sense as he could not possibly have visited Castle Black whilst at King’s Landing. From there he would only be able to travel to Dragonstone. That meant he would have had to have visited Aemon when he was here before and, although he had admitted to forgetting about it until recently, it still didn’t explain why he had collapsed at King’s Landing. Was he still just a bit confused from whatever had really happened in that small room or was he deliberately keeping secrets from her again?

She was met by Missandei on the cliff top and, after exchanging messages, Dany headed down to the old wing with her advisor and friend, giving a few instructions on what she wanted done here to get it up to the standards of the official chambers. It would take quite a bit of work still, but she was quite determined that this is where she wanted ‘home’ to be. For her, Jon and their children.

First though she needed to check that last Door. Jon had still been a little out of it when he had passed on the news, but the information about his birth in this Tower of Joy had got her exceptionally excited. Dany hadn’t fully appreciated until that point just how much the thought of that one, remaining mystery had been annoying her. She checked the direction on her map of the realm and then walked into the Summer Suite on the other side of the corridor and from there to the far wall and the south-westerly facing Door.

She placed a hand on the wood, now with the new knowledge that it no longer existed. It helped to explain how different this one had always felt to her. Always very much colder. For so long she had felt absolutely nothing within its surface at all but, even as she and Jon had started to sense far more of the time threads in most of the Doors, this one had remained faint and ghost-like. Did its destruction over twenty years ago mean it could no longer be used from this time or was it possible to travel back to a point where it _did_ exist – to where the tower still stood?

She really shouldn’t even be thinking about that. Not now she was over half a year pregnant. The last time, travelling to Jon just a few months in the past, had been one thing but to be here now, wondering if …

She should step away, she decided. They had plenty of time. Jon could try it when he was next here or she could have a go once the babes were born and safe and ...

… and then it was too late. At that very moment one tiny thread flared fat, hot and bright and the Door was swinging away from her before she had realised – when she had barely even touched the ring. With her heart hammering, Dany stepped through to Dorne and into a warm tower that no longer existed.

~o~0~o~

**The Tower of Joy**

She arrived in another small room, the stone even more red than at King’s Landing, the Dornish heat sliding in through the thick walls and drifting lazily up from outside. The babies kicked a bit but, despite Dany’s concern, it actually felt easier than when she’d recently visited Jon, the same strong compulsion she had felt to step over, now guiding her forward towards the outer door of this room. A comfort to her, in a way, to know that it had happened and that she had always done this now.

‘ _It’s a circle. A tapestry. My children survive to save us. I survive to visit Jon as an old woman. I was meant to be here today.’_

The little room opened up directly onto a steep flight of spiral stairs and Dany walked forward quietly, taking note of the descent and ascent before making her decision. _‘Easy does it.’_ She had been warned so many times by so many people about the perils of old stone steps in her condition. Flights that she would have bounded up or down just a few months ago had to be taken with so much extra care now. The glaring light below showed her that the entrance was not far away but the pull she felt now was upwards and so she headed cautiously that way, slowing as she heard voices, keeping to the shadows and very quietly edging forward.

The scene seemed both strangely familiar and oddly backwards. A pregnant, dark-haired lady being embraced by a silver-haired man, his hand on her very swollen stomach, a teasing smile on his face as she glared at him. Dany smiled too, recognising something of Jon within both reactions. His mother’s and father’s.

‘ _Jon?’_

Her gaze drifted down to Lyanna’s middle then. It had been odd enough to meet her husband as a five year old but … this?

“I would move you to Dragonstone now if I could but you’re as safe here as anywhere,” Rhaegar was saying. “Especially with Arthur and the others stationed outside to guard you.”

“And what about you?” Lyanna asked.

Rhaegar frowned. “I hope so.”

Dany moved just very slightly so she could get a better view of her brother’s face. Guarded like Jon’s in so many ways but she was able to read that particular expression well enough and so, it seemed, could Lyanna.

“What is it Rhae? What did you see? _Who_ did you meet?”

His reaction was subtle but Dany caught it all the same, a tiny flicker of his gaze downwards, a slightly more obvious rub of her stomach. “I got it wrong. All of it. _So_ wrong. What a mess I’ve made.”

“None of that now,” Lyanna scolded as she rested a gentle hand on his arm. “We all knew it wouldn’t be easy but you’ve done all you can. You got Elia and the children to Dragonstone and we’ll follow her there just as soon as we’re able. The whole of Dorne is on your side along with so many others. We can sort out the misunderstandings later and-”

“-No. That’s not what I meant. I got it wrong about the Three Headed Dragon. I got the wrong generation. I thought this one was to be a girl. Visenya.”

“You saw her, though, didn’t you?”

“Not exactly. I made a mistake there too. The silver-haired woman I met is to be my younger sister. My mother is expecting now too.”

“Oh, I see.” Lyanna beamed. “That’s wonderful news.”

“But this one,” he continued, a soft smile on his face as he caressed her stomach. “ _This_ one is a boy.”

“You’ve seen him too?” she asked, wide-eyed, and Rhaegar nodded. “Tell me.”

“His mother’s son. Her voice, her hair, her eyes … her looks.”

She was frowning now, noticing things in her husband’s closed expression that even Dany couldn’t read. “What is it, my love?”

“I got it wrong, Lyanna. I saw him before Elia’s son was born and didn’t realise. He is not a Dragon, _this_ one is. _Your_ son should be Aegon and now I’ve no idea what that will mean for the futures I’ve seen and heard and read about. What if I’ve messed it all up? What if the Three Headed Dragon never flies back to save the realm?”

“Hush now. Didn’t Aemon tell you these things can’t be changed? Didn’t he say that what you have seen _has_ to come to pass?”

“But so much death. So much … loss. You have no idea. I wanted to tell you but …I also wanted to protect you from it.” He sobbed. “ _So_ much death.”

Lyanna lead him to the bed, sitting awkwardly on the edge as she pulled him with her, letting her rest his head on his chest as he cried, stroking his hair and reminding Dany in that moment of the way she had comforted Jon at the Wall.

Jon ... currently here in the Tower but not yet born and father to all three of those who had travelled from _their_ future to save the whole realm. Rhaegar had understood that much, at least. He just hadn’t realised how far into the future he was seeing.

“We can fix this,” Lyanna said. “We can keep _all_ of your family safe.”

Rhaegar sighed. “I wish that were true.”

Dany had been trying so hard to keep her emotions contained but the tears were now flowing and she must have moved or sniffed because Lyanna suddenly looked up at her, blinking in surprise. Her dark gaze was _so_ like Jon’s that Dany couldn’t help but smile, a hand on her own stomach as she edged back into the shadows. She had no idea if Lyanna would say anything, if she even understood what it was she had seen, but the Door was now pulling Dany back home and she knew she could not ignore its call.

She had barely reached the small room when she heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, pulling the outer door shut just in time and then hovering for a moment longer to listen.

“My Prince. I’m sorry to disturb you but there are messengers here from your father. Robert’s troops are on the move. Your presence is required.”

‘ _No!’_

Dany wanted to call out but she now understood, finally, that there really was nothing to be done. The babies kicked as if to remind her of her priorities. The past was fixed and the future _had_ to happen. She and her cargo needed to get home safely.

 

And Rhaegar had to go and fight at The Trident.

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * Sorry. That last sentence really hit me in the gut when I wrote it.
>   * I’ve my own thoughts about the whole Rhaegar/Lyanna/Elia business, some of which I’ve hinted at here and will explore a little more next week.
>   * So the Door opened _towards_ Jon in King's Landing and he then stepped _forwards_ in time. That was something I decided on quite a long time back when I was first establishing the rules about the Doors always being pushed from both directions.
>   * Jon's memories of that trip forwards remain sketchy but he has very consciously decided not to mention anything to Dany mostly because she told him in that future that he hadn’t! It’s a decision that bugs him a bit, hence his nervousness as he starts to tell her about Aemon as a way to cover it up.
>   * This is where they both fully accept that Bran’s original guess was right. The past is fixed and their Door visits fix certain events in the future too.
>   * Final map included on this chapter. 
> 



	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So today is a big day. Having planned these weekly updates so carefully, the 27th January has been both an exciting and slightly terrifying date for some time now.
> 
> Thank you for coming on this journey with me.

**Dany XXXVI**

**Dragonstone**

It wasn’t exhaustion that sent Dany scurrying to her bed. Nor the hunger or the babes. Just pure, raw grief. She lay down, grabbing onto a pillow for both physical and emotional support as she let the tears flow – the babies’ firm kicks turning to more gentle flutters, as if they understood their mother’s pain and were comforting her in their own, unique way. She remained in that position until she had no tears left to cry and until nature intervened, forcing her up to relieve herself and then to the table to eat so she could start recovering some of her lost energy.

Missandei had her own room down here now and so it wasn’t long before her friend came to check on the queen, her initial concern turning to stoic acceptance. She had already learnt that the things Dany experienced through the Doors could not easily be discussed and, as much as she loved to confide in Missandei about so many things, this was something that only Jon would be able to help her with. Her husband was due to visit shortly though and so Dany simply asked her friend to help make her a little more presentable. She wouldn’t be able to keep this from him – and would probably have to endure a telling off in the process – but she knew that Jon understood that there was nothing to be done. She had _had_ to visit at that time and could now also confirm the direction of that Door and perhaps a few other things of importance too.

“Dany?” She had dozed off again but her husband’s voice brought her quickly out of it. She could hear the scolding tone already and winced as she took note of the look on his face. “Missandei said you went travelling again.”

“Yes … sorry but … I had to.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “If you say so.” He then sighed deeply. “I did wonder if I should have told you about the tower. I assume that’s where you went?”

“Yes.”

He frowned. “I tried myself but couldn’t get through. I’m not sure why.”

“Because you were already there,” she replied. “At least, that’s what I’m assuming. Lyanna was very pregnant when I saw her. As large as me – perhaps more so – although she was only carrying the one, of course.”

Jon gasped, all concern and annoyance gone from his face in a heartbeat. “You … you saw her? You saw my mother?”

Dany nodded. “She and Rhaegar were discussing … us and how he had only recently worked out that I was his sister and you his second son rather than his first.”

“Really? Did you get some idea of the Aegon issue?”

“I...” She frowned, trying to recall it. “I think so, yes.” She looked up again at him nervously, as if trying to convince herself that he wasn’t truly cross with her. “Let’s sit at the desk, Jon and start writing this out. I think now that we’ve experienced all three of the visits we were expecting, we can look at them from Rhaegar’s point of view and see if any of it starts making sense.”

~o~0~o~

“So, you visit Rhaegar shortly after Harrenhal and that tells him that he has a dark-haired son who is a Dragon and marries another Dragon,” Dany began. She jotted the information down on a piece of parchment and then frowned. “You didn’t say who I was?”

“No.”

“Then, with so few Targaryens living at that point, he must assume it was Rhaenys or your younger sister or both?”

Jon winced. “I know it’s usual for this family but I admit that that still seems most odd.”

Dany grinned. “Says my nephew.”

“Yes, fine.” He rolled his eyes. “Of course, Viserys was still alive at that point in time, so Rhaegar could also have thought it was one of _his_ future daughters I married. I mean... in theory.”

“True. Either way Rhaegar’s assuming that Elia is carrying _you_ at that point and I think perhaps Aegon is born _before_ I visited my brother at Summer Hall?”

Jon looked at her notes and nodded. “Quite likely. Tell me more about the conversation you had with him then.”

“I confirmed that I was happily married to you – his dark-haired son,” she began, still taking notes, “and yet Rhaegar continues to assume throughout our conversation that _I’_ _m_ his third child.”

“So, as we thought, he’s assuming that two of his children will marry each other.”

She nodded. “And Aegon is recently born with perhaps not much hair or hair Rhaegar thought might change later and so he still believes that he is you and that I will be his third.”

“Except, he’s now also being told that Elia can’t have any more children,” Jon remembered, “which must _really_ have confused him if we both confirmed he would definitely have three.”

She groaned. “That’s part of it, isn’t it? Part of the reason he chose Lyanna?”

“And it’s impossible to say for certain but Elia might even have known about this too?”

“I actually think that’s very likely,” Dany replied. “Lyanna was talking about her so casually and calmly in the tower and seemed to know all about the Doors and of Rhaegar’s plans to get his whole family to safety.”

He nodded. “So we can assume Elia knew about the Targaryen magic too.”

“’The whole of Dorne is on your side,’ Lyanna said to Rhaegar when I was there,” Dany told Jon. “And it stands to reason that they would most definitely _not_ be helping him if he really had abandoned Elia to run off with Lyanna behind her back.”

“True.” Jon paused, considering. “But my first meeting with him definitely happened later in his timeline. By then he seemed to know everything and already understood the errors he had made. He knew I was to have the children that would save the realm and understood exactly who I was.”

“But neither of us told him that,” Dany said, “so he must have found out some other … oh!”

“What is it?”

“Actually, I _did_ talk to him quite late in his timeline,” she realised.

“When?” Jon asked.

“When I was very young.” She bit her lip, trying to remember. “He came to wake me up one night and showed me the Castle Black Door.” She nodded as she began to understand. “He must have been testing me to see if I was a Dragon. I told him it felt warm to me but I think I also told him about the other Door.”

Jon stared at her. “You told him about Winterfell?”

She frowned, struggling to remember something that had happened so long ago and that she had thought a dream for so many years afterwards.

“I can’t remember what I told him exactly, but I _can_ recall his reaction now, in hindsight. He appeared really shocked, even though he covered it well. Even though I was so young I noticed that. I must have told him something of importance.”

“Well, if you told him you stepped through the Winterfell Door then his first thought would have been to wonder how. After all, you could have only done so if another Targaryen lived there and it was probably that which helped him to make the connection to Lyanna and from there to me?”

“But did he know what had happened to her at that point?” she asked. “Wouldn’t he have assumed you lived with her here on Dragonstone too as he had planned?”

“Perhaps but just because _we_ didn’t tell him certain things didn’t mean he couldn’t find out elsewhere, by asking Viserys or Aemon? Piecing together what had happened after he died? Visiting you on Dragonstone when you were a girl. All of that must have helped him to understand that you were his sister and that Aegon wasn’t a Dragon, and I’m sure Viserys must have told him what had happened to my mother at some point.”

She groaned. “Of course. I remember now. Viserys kept saying that Rhaegar had told him to ‘look for my third’. He knew for a fact he had had a third child but now had no idea where you were. Then I told him I could step through to Winterfell and he finally put it all together.”

“That makes sense. It’s hard for us to fully guess because we’re only seeing little bits of his side of the story but, he had the time and the ability to slowly figure it all out.” He sighed. “And Aegon? You thought you had an answer to that problem too?”

Dany quickly replayed the conversation between her brother and Lyanna, and finally put it all together.

“Your mother misunderstood I think. It seemed to me that Rhaegar knew the fate of his House and what would happen at the Trident and yet he was still trying to protect Lyanna from the news. So he was skirting around everything, being a little vague, telling her about his mistakes without fully explaining what they were. ‘ _Your_ son should be Aegon,’ he said, and I think perhaps Lyanna took that as an instruction rather than a passing observation.”

Jon groaned. “He had thought of me as Aegon for so many years. Associated me, as a Dragon, with that name, and you and I were just so cautious during our visits that we never once dared to correct him. He must have been just as confused as us in the end. Wondering why both his sons had been given the same name.”

“I don’t suppose we’ll ever know for certain,” Dany said, “but we also have to realise that our visits were all tied together anyway. It always happened. It always _was_ going to happen.”

She shook her head, fighting back the tears at the thought of her brother and how there really never been anything they could have done to have changed the fate of their House. Jon looked emotional too, holding his arms out to her and pulling her against him. Comforting her in exactly the same way as Lyanna had comforted Rhaegar in the tower.

~o~0~o

**Jon XXXVI**

**Dragonstone**

**Two Months Later**

Jon had returned home from King’s Landing on Rhaegal to be informed that the babies were on their way. There then followed a battle of wills with the resident maester who insisted that the king need not trouble himself to attend the birth. Not when he already had a Dothraki midwife and Missandei in attendance, and that he had only allowed _th_ _em_  in because the extra help might be needed for twins.

Jon simply glowered until the maester nervously suggested that the king could perhaps remain by the door and he reluctantly accepted the compromise only until Dany cried out. On hearing that Jon was immediately at her side, glowering again at anyone who dared to suggested he might let go of her hand and move away.

“He stays,” Dany gasped once that wave of pain had eased a little. “If for no other reason than for me to have someone close by to blame for all of this.”

Jon winced, trying hard to put aside the fear that had been bubbling inside of him since he first learned of her condition and instead recall the image of her as an old woman gifting him those weapons. _‘You should be asleep, young man.’_ That thought was likely to be the only thing that would get him through this and keep him strong enough to be able to help her.

It seemed to take forever. Jon could bear any level of discomfort for himself but seeing his wife in so much pain was another matter entirely. Finally though the maester announced he could see the head and Dany was instructed to push.

“I see silver hair, I’m sure,” Missandei commented and, soon after, the first baby was delivered and everyone held their breath as they waited for the quiet snuffles to turn into a welcome, loud cry. Jon then found his attention torn between mother and child as the Dothraki midwife took the babe over to the wash basin, calling out something in the guttural tongue.

“It’s a girl,” Missandei translated.

“Go and see her,” Dany told him before gasping again in pain.

“But...” Jon reluctantly released his wife’s hand to do as he was bid, instantly overcome as a small, blanketed bundle was dropped into his arms and he stared, entranced, at the little girl in his arms. His daughter. “Hello my little dragon,” he whispered, fingering the small wisps of hair which were definitely Targaryen silver. Probably _not_ Lyanna then. Not unless her hair was set to change colour dramatically.

“Jon!”

He had no idea how long he had been starting down at his beautiful first born, but his wife’s cries were enough to pull his attention back to her, cautiously handing his daughter to Missandei before scurrying back to Dany’s side.

“’I’m here.”

“I don’t think I can do this again,” she sobbed.

“You can. You _know_ you can. She is just so beautiful, Dany and we’ve another on the way.”

“Ah … perhaps?” the maester said, frowning as he leant in closer.

“What?” Jon asked, panicked. “What are you saying?”

“The next one is coming quickly, don’t worry,” the man replied, not paying much attention whilst he beckoned the midwife over to give her opinion. The woman placed a hand over Dany’s still very swollen belly and frowned before uttering a few more short words in Dothraki.

“No,” Dany sobbed. “I can’t.” On the other side of the bed, Missandei placed a hand to her mouth.

“What?” Jon asked. “What’s wrong?”

But then the other baby was on its way and there was no further talk other than instructions for his wife to push yet again. And then, after what seemed like another age, their second child was born.

The wait for this one to cry was even longer and Jon had to keep remembering the future visit and the battle. Keep convincing himself that they would _all_ make it through this.

He didn’t understand what the midwife was telling him when the second bundle was placed into his arms but he was quickly distracted by the obvious dark hair on this one’s head.

“Another girl?” he guessed as he looked down in awe.

“Yes,” Missandei confirmed and Jon felt tears sting his eyes.

“Lyanna, I presume,” he whispered to his second daughter.

“Your Grace,” Missandei said, coming over and trying to take her off of him. “The queen needs you again.”

“What? Why? What’s wrong?”

“Three...” Dany sobbed as he came to hold her hand again. “No wonder I was so big. They say there’s another one on the way.”

“Three?”

Dany uttered a strange sound then and Jon had no idea if she was laughing or crying. “’The Dragon must have three heads.’ Funny joke, yes?”

“Three?” Jon croaked out again.

“Yes, Your Grace,” the maester replied as he pushed past him to check on Daenerys. “I’m sorry I can’t give you a break, Your Grace,” he said to the queen as he offered her a little water, “but I don’t think this last one wants to stay in there without the company of its siblings.”

“Three...” he mumbled, yet again and Dany yanked at his hand.

“Focus, Jon. I need you here with me … please.”

He blinked and turned his attention back to her. “Of course. I’m here. I’m _always_ here. You’re nearly there, Dany. You are the strongest person I know and I love you.” Her only response was another cry of pain and Jon blinked back tears as he saw just how pale and weak she was. “What can I do? What else can I do?”

But there was no response as everyone bustled around to help deliver the third child. This one with hair as silver as the first. Three girls. Two with silver hair, one with dark.

“They’re all here,” Jon whispered to Dany a little later as the babies were brought to her to start nursing. “All three of them.”

“Lyanna,” she said, holding her arms out for the dark-haired baby and putting her to a breast. “And the first, the eldest, will be Rhaella after her other grandmother.”

“See if the third will accept a breast first, Your Grace,” the maester said. “She is the smallest one and will need careful observation and attention.”

“Aemma,” she said, smiling up at Jon as the tiny bundle was passed to her.

“After Uncle Aemon,” he realised. “Perfect.”

He sat on the bed with his wife, holding Rhaella until it was her turn to feed, stroking each small, soft head in turn before kissing his wife on the cheek and then repeating the circuit.

“They are all so beautiful,” he declared, only then recalling his visit to the future when the girls were a little older, annoyed at himself for not realising before that they had all quite obviously been the same age. “Our three, brave, beautiful little Dragons.”

~o~0~o~

**Seven Years Later**

**King's Landing**

It had been a busy time for Jon recently, flying up to Winterfell to visit his Stark family and help with a few issues in the north before coming back home to attend a few meetings in King’s Landing. They had a lot of work for him to attend to in the Capital but the king was insistent that most of it would have to wait. He had to return to Dragonstone. He would not miss his daughters’ seventh name day celebrations.

He fell asleep late and then woke for no reason he could fathom whilst it was still dark outside. Getting up out of bed with a groan Jon paced for a while as he often did when unable to sleep. He then realised he was also nibbling at the food which was now always left in the chambers at night – wondered at his sudden hunger after the large supper – before feeling a familiar pull and belatedly understanding what it meant.

“Really?” he complained, grabbing another piece of bread as he headed down the corridor towards the Dragon Door. “You want me to go visiting now? Of all the inconvenient times?”

He quickly dressed and wrapped a cape around himself, grumbling to any gods who might be listening as he walked sleepily towards the small Dragon room, placed a hand on the dark wood and tried to work out who it was he was sensing. He was being called to the past, he decided and Dany... probably. Their visits in time were far less frequent nowadays but the two of them had now become very much better at working out something of what was to happen before they stepped through. This one seemed less obvious though.

Jon raised his hood and stepped from the dark of King’s Landing to the dark of Dragonstone, quickly following the pull towards the Winter Suite, very slowly opening the door to get some idea of who and what he might encounter. He slid in silently, keeping to the shadows, watching two silver heads bowed near the Castle Black door – one tall and one very small – and he moved very slightly closer, trying his best to remain unnoticed.

“Well, all I want you to do is put your hand on this door, Daenerys, nothing more, and then tell me how it feels to you.” Jon held his breath in order to stop himself from making a sound. That was Rhaegar.

“It’s warm,” the little girl declared and Jon heard Rhaegar’s small intake of breath even as he recalled Dany telling him about this encounter. What little she had been able to remember, at least. “I prefer the other door anyway.”

“What other door?” Rhaegar asked her.

“The one in the corridor.” Jon winced, despite knowing it had happened, and it seemed that even young Dany had noticed Rhaegar’s shock. “What is it? It’s not dangerous in _that_ courtyard, I promise.”

“Viserys doesn’t think you should go outside at all,” her brother said, his voice sounding surprisingly calm, considering the shock he had just had.

Dany nodded. “I know. The guards always stop me on the south door but I don’t think they know about that one.”

“What’s through there?” he asked.

“Just a lot of men training usually but there’s one nice old woman there and some children that I like to play with.”

Rhaegar smiled. “Including your dark-haired urchin?” Unseen Jon rolled his eyes at the description.

“He’s my best friend,” Dany declared.

“Well, I won’t tell Viserys about your visits, I promise, but perhaps you should keep your hair covered when you go outside from now on. It’s very important that no-one recognises you as a Targaryen.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my sweet, but please promise me that you’ll be very careful? Always remember that our family has many enemies and often where we least suspect them. Do not tell any of your new friends who you are.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Good girl, now back to bed with you and try to remember everything I’ve told you.”

Jon watched as Rhaegar walked with his little sister back into her bed-chambers and wondered what he should do next. His father was visiting Dany from her past and, if they had guessed correctly, was only now starting to put together the final, missing pieces of his puzzle. And yet Jon had now arrived here too, from the future. Why? Just to observe or was there another reason he was here?

He looked over at the door, wondering if he should leave, taking a single step forwards just as the moon decided to appear from behind a cloud and flooded the room with light. Inevitably Rhaegar stepped back out of Dany’s chambers at exactly the same time.

“Who are …? Oh.”

Jon had lowered his hood now and stepped closer. “Do you recognise me?”

“I do. Aegon?”

He winced. “Sort of.”

Rhaegar looked like he was going to query that but he had now noticed something else. “You’re older.”

“Aye.”

His father turned back towards Dany’s door and then back. “And northern. You _are_ Lyanna’s child.”

“I am.”

Rhaegar groaned. “I got it all wrong.”

Jon shrugged. “Easily done. It took quite a while for Dany and I to figure it all out.”

“Dany?” He again looked back over his shoulder, smiling. “I understand now. You two knew each other since you were children. I thought you were _both_ mine but … that bit at least makes sense now.” He looked closely at Jon. “And the Three-Headed Dragon?”

“ _My_ children. Your grandchildren.” He rolled his eyes. “And your nieces too, I suppose.”

Rhaegar chuckled. “The Targaryen family tree always was a bit of a tangle.”

“Seems appropriate considering the time tangles of the Doors.”

“True.” He winced. “I need to go now. These visits are getting harder recently, not easier.” Jon just nodded, his gaze lowered. “Visiting the future is not recommended.”

“I know,” Jon replied, “and you should probably tell me that when we next meet.”

“When we...” Rhaegar rolled his eyes. “Right … I’ll see you again in your past?”

“Our visits seem to be mostly backwards. Except this one, of course. I had no idea about this.”

Rhaegar groaned. “I have to go. Is there anything else I need to know?”

Jon frowned. “So much I would _want_ to tell you but … I don’t think it’s going to be of much help now.”

His father nodded, head down as he started to leave. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry about the mess I made of it.”

“And I’m sorry too,” Jon replied. “I really wish we had more … time.”

And yet again he was being pulled into a fierce embrace, fighting the very real fear that this was going to be the last time he would ever see Rhaegar.

And then, just as quickly, Jon was on his knees in the royal bed-chambers at King’s Landing, his eyes full of tears but otherwise far too numb to do much more than stagger towards his bed and collapse down on top of it.

~o~0~o~

**Dragonstone**

After all the nagging and threatening of his advisors, Jon ended up being the reason he was late for the celebrations the following day. He flew home on Rhaegal just as soon as he awoke and sprinted down to the Winter Suite to find Dany waiting for him with one eyebrow raised.

“Sorry … tried to get away earlier but...” He ignored her glare and moved forward to haul her into a hug, smiling slightly as he remembered seeing her, just last night, as a seven year old. The coincidence of that made him smile. “Where are the girls?”

“Playing outside. I’m sure they’ll be here soon once they see that Rhaegal’s returned.” She pulled away and looked at him more closely, tracing her fingers under his eyes. “Time travel?” she asked.

“Aye. I’ll tell you later.” He moved to kiss her on the lips his body still quickly reacting to her even after all these years. “Any chance we can get some time alone tonight?” he asked with a smirk.

“That’s the plan, Jon but, before you tell me about your adventures, I have some news of my own.”

“Oh?”

She smiled brightly. “I’m pregnant.”

“What?” He gasped. “But I thought … The triplets? I thought they were to be our only children.”

“Yes, we assumed that, didn’t we? However, if you think about it, there was actually no logical reason for that guess.”

“No but after seven years I assumed...”

Dany shrugged. “Seems as if my body likes to have a long time to recover from each pregnancy,”

“Apparently so and it’s probably just as well.” He placed a hand on her stomach, currently perfectly flat. “Please tell me there’s only one in there this time?”

“Oh gods, I really hope so. As much as I love them I just don’t think I could go through _that_ again.”

“Papa! You’re home,” Aemma said rushing in first, a few unruly, silver curls already escaping their usual intricate braiding as she rushed forward to hug him.

“And you’re late,” Lyanna added as she entered not far behind, her tone stern, although she too flung her arms around Jon’s waist and squeezed him tight from the other side.

Rhaella typically entered at a more refined pace. She had obviously run here just like her sisters but was doing her best to hide the fact. Trying to act dignified.

“We worried you weren’t going to make it home in time for the feast,” she said.

“Nothing would have stopped me from getting here. Happy name day my beautiful little Dragons.”

“But we have to tell you that-” Aemma began.

“-we opened some of our presents already-” Lyanna continued.

“-because Mama said we could-” Rhaella explained.

Lyanna looked up at him, wide-eyed. “-and you’ll never guess what we got from Winterfell-”

“-from Uncle Bran and Aunty Sansa and Arya-”

“-Guess, go on,” Aemma urged.

“Slow down, girls,” Jon said, laughing as he tried to keep up with their unique way of talking when excited. “They gave me the box when I was up there but ordered me not to open it.”

The girls giggled. “But you’re the king,” Rhaella reminded him. “You shouldn’t be ordered by other people.”

“Yes, but they’re my siblings. You know how that goes.” He smiled down at them. “Well? What was it? Bran said he asked Arya to go and get it for you especially.”

“It’s a dragon egg, Papa,” Lyanna told him. “A beautiful, ancient, golden dragon egg.”

Jon glanced over at Dany who nodded, her eyebrows raised. “Can it be hatched?” he asked.

“Possibly,” she replied with a shrug. “I promised the girls I’d look into it.”

“And Mama told us about another present for us, although we’re all going to have to wait for a whole half a year. Did she tell you?”

Jon looked up at his wife with a fond smile as she rubbed her stomach gently. “She did, Aemma. Isn’t it exciting?”

“We can’t agree on whether we want a brother or a sister,” Rhaella said. “Boys are annoying, of course, but we already have sisters so it might be nice to have a change.”

“How about one of each!” Lyanna shouted.

“No,” Dany and Jon replied in unison.

“Shall we go get the egg to show you?” Aemma asked him then.

“Oh, yes!” the other two chorused, and all three had run off into the Crown Chambers before Jon even had a chance to reply.

He took the opportunity whilst it presented itself – no matter how brief – striding over to his wife and pulling her into her arms to kiss her and she responded whole heartedly, her arms around his shoulders, her fingers tugging at his hair.

“Ugh!”

“Do you have to!”

“Yuck!”

Jon pulled away with a smile and Dany giggled at the looks amusement, disgust and exasperation on their daughters’ faces. His attention was soon drawn to what they were carrying though, all three holding it awkwardly as if none wished to be parted from it.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” the girls chorused together.

“It is,” Jon said. “As are all four of you.”

“And you too, of course,” his wife said, stroking his face whilst the girls giggled at her comment.

Jon smiled, pulling her into his arms and kissing the top of her head before looking back over to his three daughters holding their name day gift and marvelling at the fact that, after all the heartache and loss and hardships, he and Dany had finally been gifted the home and family they had always craved.

~o~0~o~

**The End**

(Rhaella, Lyanna & Aemma)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   * Surprise!  I’m not sure how many of you saw the art I drew for the ‘dream of Spring’ prompt last year, but I said at the time that I wanted to include the three girls in a story at some point and it was all the way back in June that I suddenly ‘realised’ that they were going be THIS Jon and Dany’s kids. The closer we got to the end, the more impatient I got about sharing it again and have enjoyed writing the last couple of acts with this image in my head. You can find this and other Jonerys art on my Deviant Art (also jaqtkd)
>   * I know a lot of you wanted Jon to visit his mother and perhaps he does at some point 'off screen'?  However, I had it in my head that it was not possible to visit yourself and that would include being in the womb - especially very late in the pregnancy as it was with Lyanna. The triplets would not want to get too close to Dany when they were fighting the Night King either but it was also very early in the pregnancy for her which would have made it easier. Young Lyanna had no problem interacted directly with her dad though.
>   * The Aegon Problem was THE problem I wanted to solve from the start. Took a while for the whole solution to click into place. However, after all the plot tangles and hair pulling, Jon's explanation at the end seemed the most obvious with Rhaegar himself seeing both sons during his visits and also wondering why they were both called Aegon!  What a lovely time tangle! 
>   * Rhaegar visiting child!Dany is in Chapter 2 if you want to check back. Also many of the references to Rhaegar's timeline and his thoughts on the three headed dragon are mentioned by Viserys in Chapter 1 if you fancy a re-read.
>   * Please ask me any other questions you have about this fic. Inevitably there are a few story lines which I didn’t cover in huge detail, but I still hope that most of your big questions have been answered now.
> 

> 
> Thank you SO much for the support on this, my longest ever fanfiction. I was terrified back in May when I started publishing this one and the positive responses and wonderful hits and comments have meant the world to me. 
> 
> I’m sorry to report that ‘The Masks We Wear’ is stuck again and the other ideas I have are being annoyingly stubborn too.  I’ve taken a little break recently but plan to have another look at everything I have so far later this afternoon and see if inspiration returns. It could be that my brain is still too tied up in this story and that I'll be able to focus on others now it's officially done. Unfortunately it's looking very unlikely that I’ll be ready to get a multi-chapter out next Sunday, although I have published one chapter of this fic every weekend for the last thirty-six weeks (and went straight from Warg Riders to this one too) so perhaps having a couple of weekends off from crazy Sunday publishing will do me some good.


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